A Pacifist's War
by Gwen6
Summary: *FINISHED* A tale of Lady Deirdre and the Gaians, and how their belief in peace must combat against war. Will they keep peace in the world, or will their ideals and hopes shatter with the tempestuous calls of aggression?
1. Vendetta

"It has been brought to my attention recently that large Spartan forces are marching across the land bridge between my city of New Glasgow, and her Bunker 118. I would ask the council to discern the purpose of these forces, and to caution Santiago against such an action, as I pose no threat to her whatsoever."  
  
Deirdre of the Gaians sat, having finished speaking, and watched as the room erupted into chaos. She was shocked and appalled to see what the council had become, a fairground for the jealousies and hatreds of the seven factions. It was no longer a representation of what the people of Planet wanted, and had ceased to be that for many years. Even when she had been speaking, she had noted the way Morgan glanced at Santiago, silently offering her support. The intrigues within the council were enough to make her scream.  
  
Only Lal, the leader of the Peacekeepers felt the same way, and he was in a precarious position, attempting to assuage Miriam's tendency to raiding his settlements for energy credits, in her sporadic crusades that her minions indulged in at other peoples expense.  
  
"Lady Deirdre, I assure you, everything that can be done by this council is being undertaken. Santiago has assured me that nothing untoward is happening, it is a routine scouting mission."  
  
Lal seemed almost guilty, and, as he sat, he seemed to fidget uncomfortably. Deirdre sighed, and shook her head. She held up a small vid- screen, which she passed around the council. It showed the troops of Santiago, lining up not sixty miles from New Glasgow. Behind the lines, their aircraft were landing. The overwhelming forces arrayed against her pushed Deirdre into anger. She shouted at the mute leaders in the room:  
  
"When we travelled in the Unity, we had a distinct mission. This was to be the new settlement for humankind, the last hope and bastion of our race. I see I, at least, was mistaken. I say that the Council has failed, and that Santiago is planning a brutal attack on my base, it is evident, surely you can all see that?"  
  
Zakharov nodded. "Council members, this is a clear move of aggression against Lady Deirdre, and I must ask that we forbid Santiago a vendetta with the Gaians."  
  
Santiago laughed. "You believe these two, council members? A tree-loving democrat, and a high-handed scientist? I stress once again that my forces are there merely for a scouting mission."  
  
Lal closed his eyes, obviously torn. When he looked at her, his eyes spoke volumes. He was trapped. There was no way he was going to put himself on the line, and Deirdre cursed him for a coward.  
  
"Forgive me, my lady, but Santiago is right. This is clearly no threat to you or yours."  
  
Deirdre stood, her lip curled. "Then I was right. The Council has failed. I bid you goodbye. I resign. Find some other fool to manipulate as you will, I will not sit here and talk while this creature plots havoc upon my people. Good day."  
  
She whirled around, and left the Council chambers. As she left, she met the eyes of Zakharov. He nodded grimly. Lal too caught her eyes, and once again offered a silent apology. The council made her sick.  
  
  
  
When she reached Gaia's Landing by shuttle three hours later, she headed straight to the control room, where it seemed that chaos ruled. Hundreds of aides were running back and forth, and generals by the tens were talking loudly.  
  
"Report, general. How far our her forces from New Glasgow?"  
  
Her voice cut across the tempest, and the room fell silent.  
  
Holding New Glasgow was vital. It controlled the traffic across the land bridge. If Santiago occupied the city, there would be no way to stop her armies from subjugating the rest of the continent, and the Gaian faction with it. Deirdre whispered fervent thanks that Gaia's Landing, the centre of her faction was a good three hundred miles from the land bridge. In fact, it was a good three hundred miles from anywhere, located as it was on a small island away from the mainland. Her capital would be the final city to fall, if it came to that, and for that she was glad. However, the continued survival of her faction was fixed on this one base.  
  
General Marco sighed. "Lady Deirdre, they now approach the edges of our territory. What shall we do? Our air force is stationed in New Glasgow, and our navy sails along the coast to protect our western flank. Shall I commit our army to battle?"  
  
Deirdre shook her head. We will allow her to cross the borders. We will stop her in the Xenofungus Plains. Our my mindworms ready? Our survival depends upon them."  
  
Marco nodded, his hands smoothing his greying bread. "Yes, my lady. We have dug trenches behind the plains. If we cannot stop her at the plains, we will try to stop her at the trenches."  
  
Deirdre nodded. "Good. Have we any troops left in reserve?"  
  
Marco smiled. "The troops in High Garden are entering their shuttles as we speak. They will arrive in a few hours. Other cities have pledged at least two thousand troops each to the war effort. It will take at least a few weeks to mobilise the troops, but when they are, they can be placed at New Glasgow with relative ease. If Santiago can be stopped, my lady. She will be."  
  
Deirdre sat down at her seat, and massaged her forehead with her left hand. Biting her lip for a moment, she spoke:  
  
"I want all our aircraft at New Glasgow. Air supremacy is vital. Are the new models complete, Marco?"  
  
Her general sighed. "Yes my lady. All new aircraft have been equipped with the singularity laser and a tachyon field. In the air, we can defeat Santiago, though on land she has many more troops than us, and they are much more well-equipped than our own."  
  
Deirdre laughed. "Can her troops defeat our mindworms? I think not. Santiago has never bothered to research the trance technology, and that is the only thing that could stop the demon boils we have bred."  
  
Marco shrugged. "Nevertheless, it would not do to be complacent, my lady." Deirdre raised an eyebrow. "Complacent, Marco? I think not. The mindworms will defeat her, surely. However, unlike us, she can afford a war. Whether or not we fight her back, there is no way we can regain the energy credits."  
  
  
  
Lindly was surprised to see Deirdre enter her chambers. Having been stationed at New Glasgow three years ago, she had missed her old mentor's presence. She bowed to her leader, and then kissed her hand.  
  
"My lady, what a pleasant surprise."  
  
Deirdre waved her hand.  
  
"We have no time for any formality, Lindly. Are the demon boils ready?"  
  
Lindly tapped her fingers against the wall for a moment, and then replied. "Yes, my lady. They are. All our talents who can control them are in the Plains right this instant. Colonel Santiago's troops approach. We should have them on the screen soon, my lady."  
  
Deirdre gestured. "Lindly, you will join me in the command room. I have only just arrived from Gaia's Landing by shuttle, and I needed to find you. Meet me there in half-an-hour. I must address my troops."  
  
  
  
Lady Deirdre of the Gaians stood before the assembled ranks of her militia. Her people were not warriors; they were empaths and biologists, doctors and scientists. Santiago was ruining everything, curse the woman.  
  
"My people! Today to go to do battle with the Spartans. I will not lie to you. The battle will be hard, and we could lose. Keep this in your hearts when you fight though. Her faction has no love for the beauty of Planet, no time for the environment. With her hand on the reins, this planet will suffer the same fate as Earth in a hundred years. Look around, Gaians! Look at the beauty, and the majesty of nature. We are the only faction that has managed to tame nature, and look at the results!"  
  
Her hand flung behind her to gesture at the centauri preserves common in every Gaian city. Within the crystal domes, earth plants and those native to planet cohabited and thrived. Every Gaian would feel pride when looking at those, for they stood for everything which they believed in.  
  
"You will fight today, and you will remember the beauty of Planet. You will remember that all living things are in peril now, not just us. Fight for our freedom, yes, but fight for Planet also! Go forward, my Gaians, and let us teach Santiago that we are no English Trifle!"  
  
The armies erupted into cheers and laughter. To a man, they began entering the shuttles, which rose into the air, before heading in the direction of the Plains. There, Deirdre knew, the fate of her faction was waiting to be decided. 


	2. Xenofungus Death

Sitting in the control room, Deirdre struggled to control the feeling of fear and anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her reason. The room was empty, save for the generals of her army, and her advisors. All were silent.  
  
'I want the Spartans on screen, now.'  
  
The blank expanse of white screen flickered for a moment, and then, as if watching a channel from Morgan's shows, the armies of the Spartans could be seen, marching across the flat plains. Once more, Deirdre was struck by the impossible size of the force, numbering around thirty thousand extremely well equipped troops. Their uniforms were emblazoned with the ensign of the Spartans, which seemed to radiate a menace that chilled Deirdre's blood.  
  
Gripping the arms of her seat tightly, in an attempt to slow her pounding heart, Deirdre turned to her generals, and spoke, her voice almost breaking with the nervous tension.  
  
'Order the air strike. The Spartans must bleed for every inch they tread towards the city. Contact Admiral Hawke, tell him that the navy must begin bombarding the enemy from the sea. Every artillery piece in range must fire on the Spartans, is that understood? They must not think we want them to enter the xenofungus.'  
  
The communications were relayed to the Admiral, and to the commanders of the artillery and aircraft. After a few minutes, the image on the screen showed a bright flash of light. The aircraft had sped across the enemy lines, and their bombs had torn huge holes in the ranks. From the east, shells fired from the navy began to fall, sometimes ripping people into pieces. What had once been a peaceful and beautiful valley soon erupted into a fiery hell. The hell flashed with bursts of light whenever a shell ruptured upon impact with the ground.  
  
The sound from these blasts was deafening, and it made Deirdre wince. She pitied those who fought in battles, and she pitied Santiago, who had instigated this conflict in cold blood. The cursed leader would never feel remorse. Santiago had eradicated one of her own bases, when the governor had led an insurrection against her. Deirdre seemed to be the only one on Planet who understood that she was a war hungry relic who was obsessed with the Spartan 'war machine'.  
  
Many people named Santiago a brave revolutionary, at which Deirdre had always laughed. In the Weimar Republic, on earth in the 1900's, there had been an extremist party, who believed in many of the same principles as Santiago. The Nazi Party, and their leader, Adolf Hitler, had instigated the Second World War, which killed millions.  
  
Now Santiago did the same, three hundred years later, on a different planet, many light-years away from Earth. The same mistakes, that mankind should have learned from were being repeated.  
  
The flashes from the bombs cleared for a moment, as a lull between the flights of jets was reached. Deirdre waited until the second flight of aircraft flew over, dropping their bombs. Once again, flashes of death lit up the sky, and screams offered their morbid praise to the 'glory' of war.  
  
There was no time for another flight, for now the Spartan air force had been launched into the air, fighters striking down the virtually defenceless Gaian bombers. Deirdre smiled.  
  
'Release the hawks. Santiago will taste the power of Gaians in the air today. Do not restrain the pilots. Kill as many Spartans as possible.'  
  
Those chilling words, which surprised Deirdre when she spoke them, were repeated, and relayed to the fighter pilots still waiting in airfields on the outskirts of the city. Closing her eyes, Deirdre whispered a quick prayer of meditation, and she clenched her hands, which were icy with fear.  
  
On the screen, the night-black hawks were attacking the Spartan craft, tearing the down easily with the singularity lasers. A smile appeared on Deirdre's lips. The lasers worked wonders, it seemed. A pity they cost so much, or she would have outfitted her entire defence force with them. As it was, she could only outfit a small section of the air force, which she named the Hawks of Chiron.  
  
They were living up to their name, ripping through the Spartan craft like a god striding through a mortal battle. Deirdre heard the cheers in the room, and laughed. Money well spent, it seemed.  
  
The Spartan army had continued to march, even under fire. Deirdre admired their bravery, but it was bravery given to an evil cause. There was enough time for one more bombardment, and she ordered it. For the final time, the screen flashed white with the explosions, and then the Spartans entered the xenofungus.  
  
Battered and bloody, the army marched a few metres into the bright pink florae. Deirdre waited until every last Spartan had entered the xenofungus. Breathing in deeply, she pressed the switch underneath her finger. In the headpiece of every Gaian out there, the word relayed to them was simple: attack. And attack they did.  
  
From the pink depths of the xenofungus, rose the writhing, teeming masses of the mindworms. Deirdre felt a surge of pride. They were her worms, bred by her and the empaths that made their abode here in New Glasgow. The Spartans were defenceless, surprised by the sudden appearance of the mindworms, and then beaten almost senseless by the psychic influences of the creatures. Many Spartan warriors collapsed, and died screaming as the worms burrowed into their skulls.  
  
Most of the Spartans, however, were far too well trained to collapse, and despite the psychic battering their minds were receiving, they fought against the demon boils. The air filled with the flames, and before the worms were destroyed, they withdrew. Before the Spartans had taken more than a few breaths, the Gaian militia, numbering far less than the enemy, attacked. Laser shots sped through the air, striking enemy soldiers. The Spartans roared as one, and, to a man, charged into the xenofungus, where their doom waited them.  
  
Organised, and strengthened in battalions, the Spartans could fight off the mindworms, but alone, disorganised and disorientated by the xenofungus, they were helpless. The screams rose into the air, as the mindworms began to feed on the soldiers.  
  
Deirdre stood, and the room exploded into hoots and whoops of joy. The attacking army of the Spartans had been defeated, and with a relatively bloodless battle. Lindly, standing in a throng of generals, smiled to her leader. Deirdre smiled back, and wept. They had won.  
  
As she wept, and laughed, the generals did the same. For the first time, the Gaians had fought a battle, and they had defeated their enemy. The pacifistic methods of fighting did work. It was a day of victory.  
  
'My lady. I have urgent news from the west.'  
  
Deirdre paused. Something in the man's voice was agitated. Sighing, she signalled for silence. The room hushed, and she was able to ask:  
  
'What news?'  
  
The aide who had interrupted the celebrations bowed his head, and then continued. 'My lady, a large naval force of the Spartans has flanked us. Already they land their troops on the beaches. They are an hour away from the city, if that. What shall we do, my lady?'  
  
Deirdre cursed under her breath. She was a fool. Of course Santiago could not be beaten so easily. She closed her eyes, and blinked back tears of despair. This was no time to appear weak. She began issuing orders. She had a war to win, and a people to save. 


	3. Scorn

Deirdre stared at the screen mutely, unable to speak. Her throat was constricted and tight, and when she did try to speak, all that came out were a series of unintelligible rasps. Her generals were just as shocked as her.  
  
The satellite images showed how the Spartan attack across the land bridge had been a feint. Now the main body of the Spartan army, numbering about three million, had landed, and was marching on New Glasgow.  
  
Lindly caught Deirdre's eyes, and said: "My lady, there is still time for you to flee towards Gaia's Landing. There is a chance we can hold Santiago off, at least until reinforcements arrive."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. The tears rose again in her eyes. She felt like throwing herself to the floor, and sobbing until all her problems would dissipate. It would never happen like that though. It was her job to look after people now, not the other way around.  
  
"I will not flee like some startled hare, is that understood, Lindly?"  
  
The girl, being Planet-born, had no idea what Deirdre was on about, but General Marco spoke up, a worried look appearing in his eyes.  
  
"My lady, it would not do for you to be caught in the headlights like a hare, either. Go to Gaia's Landing, Deirdre, I urge you. You can command the war from there. Who knows, the Council could convene, and decide to end Santiago's pretensions here."  
  
Deirdre rolled her eyes. "The day that happens is the day Morgan loses his love of gold. I will not run. I am staying here, with my army, is that understood?"  
  
Marco shook his head. "My lady, our position here is doomed, please, you must flee to Gaia's Landing. You could return shortly, with reinforcements, could you not?"  
  
Deirdre raised an eyebrow. "Whether or not I leave, general, the reinforcements will be arriving. Now, I have made my decision. We have no more time to waste. Pull in all our troops, and order our aircraft to carry out as many air strikes as possible. And put Admiral Hawke on the screen."  
  
The screen depicting the Spartan army flashed, and the face of the Admiral appeared. He was an old man, having been with Deirdre since Planetfall. Around him, Deirdre could make out the billowing smoke and flashes of fire that betrayed a battle. Panic rose in her throat, more potent than any experienced before. Her admiral could not die out there. She would not allow it!  
  
"Admiral, what is happening?"  
  
He shouted through the comm-link. "Lady Deirdre, the Spartan navy has been cloaked all this time, and now they launch an attack against our own naval forces. We are outnumbered about three to one."  
  
Deirdre knew what they must do. She knew it in her gut.  
  
"Withdraw, Admiral. Gather your ships, and break through their lines. Find safe harbour at Memory of Earth. Rest your men, repair you fleet."  
  
The Admiral's mouth dropped open. "And leave you defenceless against the Spartan navy? I think not, Deirdre. That is folly."  
  
Her voice cracking like a whip, Deirdre shouted the Admiral's arguments down. "Admiral, how long do you think our fleet can last out there against Spartans? I'll answer it for you. They won't last at all. We must salvage as much as we can from this disaster, is that understood? It you fight, our navy will be driven into the harbours here, and they will never be able to escape. At the least, if you make for Memory you will be able to counter- attack when you are sufficiently rested."  
  
Hawke paused. "But my lady, this is."  
  
Smiling coldly, Deirdre said. "If I here the words 'this is folly' once more, I swear you will all be brought before a disciplinary council. I have made my decision, Hawke, now do it. Is it clear?"  
  
The Admiral shook his head in despair, and nodded. "Aye, milady, it is understood." Deirdre nodded. "End the communication."  
  
The screen blanked out for a second, and Deirdre closed her eyes. She did not believe in a God, so there was no use in praying, but to someone, anything, that might be out there, noticing her struggle, she begged for aid.  
  
"I want the air force to strike the Spartan ships."  
  
Marco smiled. "Yes, my lady."  
  
Deirdre lay back in her seat, in a futile attempt to calm herself. Her hands felt like ice, and the tension rising within her threatened to leave her a shuddering, hopeless wreck. Lindly looked calm, being a veteran of the frequent mindworm attacks on New Glasgow. The screen blinked, and now it showed the Gaian army, entering the city through the huge synthmetal gates.  
  
It seemed to take hours for the last of the warriors to enter the gate, but, after twenty minutes, the last Gaian was in the city. With a clang that spoke of finality, the gates were shut. The sound echoed in Deirdre's head.  
  
"Order the evacuation, general. Every child, and the old and infirm must be given space on the shuttles. Fly them to Memory. There will only be time for three shuttle flights. How many people can that remove from the city?"  
  
Marco sighed. "All, my lady. Though the middle-aged, physically strong will have to remain here."  
  
Deirdre closed her eyes. "May the people forgive me for this, but it needs to be done." She faced Marco. "I want you to order compulsory conscription. Any person fit for service must fight."  
  
The general nodded, and he too, mirrored the hopelessness in his leader's eyes. Their own leader had just broken a law of the Gaian faction.  
  
  
  
For the next few hours, the Gaian air force struck at the Spartan army, and the air was filled with crimson flames, and acrid black smoke. As the enemy drew closer to the city, they air strikes became more desperate, the pilots obviously trying to destroy as many of the enemy as they could before they reached the city.  
  
Rover detachments were sent, lancing into the sides of the army like pins pricking the hide of an elephant. All the rover units disengaged successfully, after causing small amounts of damage. It was pointless, the generals said, to attack the Spartans with rovers, but they were the only things Deirdre had capable of carrying the fight to the enemy. Curse the Spartans; they were on the wrong side of the city!  
  
When news of the conscription had reached the populace, a silence had fallen. Deirdre and the rest of the generals feared that there would be an insurrection, yet nothing of the sort happened. Instead, slowly, in trickles at first, but gradually increasing to a flood, the citizenry of New Glasgow marched out to take up arms against their aggressors.  
  
She had cried then, seeing the peaceful faces torn within themselves. They were breaking the oldest law, and yet they were determined to do so. The Spartans would not have New Glasgow, if it meant the death of every person present. They blessed her this moment, yes, but if they survived, Deirdre knew they would revile everything she had ever stood for. That could not be helped, however.  
  
Sitting in the control room, Deirdre had kept a tight rein of her anxiety, offering nothing but an indomitable appearance for her followers since she had broken down and cried.  
  
As she sat, thinking, there was a loud screeching, and a roaring crash. The generals rushed to the window, and their worried shouts filled the room. Deirdre stood, and shouted: "Be still! What is happening?"  
  
"They bombard, my lady! They are setting the city afire! Look, one of our preserves is alight! The devils, they ruin a lifetime of work!"  
  
Deirdre snarled, and raced to the window, all thoughts of dignity forgotten. It was true. The Spartans were obviously close enough to bombard the city, and now the crystal domed centauri preserves were burning. When Deirdre saw the rare specimens of willow and oak so carelessly and casually burned, a helpless rage took her. Her eyes blazed, and she murmured, in a voice laced with fury.  
  
"Contact Brother Lal."  
  
Marco shook his head, but did as he was told. An aide switched a couple of buttons, and, sure enough, Lal's face appeared on the screen. It was lined and creased with worry, and when he saw Deirdre, sympathy seemed to light within the orbs of blue. "My lady, what a pleasant-"  
  
Deirdre shouted at the screen. "It is not a social contact, Lal. Look what the Spartan beast has done, look! You go on about your precious charter, and look! Don't see and judge with a bureaucrat's eyes, look as a human, Lal! Our groves and preserves die! A century of work, my life, Lal, and now, because of your weak and ineffectual leadership, your foolish prevarication, the treasures of New Glasgow are being desecrated and destroyed."  
  
Lal bowed his head. "Lady, please listen!"  
  
Deirdre finally allowed the anger that had festered within her every single day since Planetfall to release itself. Her face remained it normal paleness, yet now there was a depth to it that spoke of unfathomable bitterness.  
  
"No, Pravin Lal, you will listen to me for once! I have supported your Council every step of the way. I have stood there while fools like Santiago have laughed at my suggestions for environmental preservation. Vultures like Morgan have been eying my cities all my life, and now Santiago, supported economically by Morgan, is attacking them! You are a weak-willed idiot, Lal, and I feel ill to the heart when I look at you. In you I see the living embodiment of the UN. I note every failure of theirs, yet now you have surpassed even the League of Nations. You have allowed a peaceful faction to come under threat from a larger, more powerful aggressor."  
  
She turned to the aides. "Send him the images of the army. Let him judge the validity of Santiago's scouting mission." She fixed Lal with a level gaze. "You once had my full loyalty, Lal. I would have done anything to keep the Council in power. Yet now you prove doubts that have lingered in my mind since the first day. You are a bumbling prig!"  
  
Pravin Lal opened his mouth to speak, but Deirdre cut him off again. The images were sent to Lal, and Deirdre spoke, this time quieter. "Look, Lal. Look at the scouting mission. May you know shame for the rest of your life. Your precious UN is ended. I revile it, and if I have my way, there will be no remnant of it upon Planet."  
  
Sighing, Lal shook his head. Deirdre knew he wanted to speak, but she merely nodded to Marco. The communication was ended. 


	4. Enlisted Aid

"Colonel Santiago wishes to speak with you, Lady Deirdre!"  
  
The almost wary shout brought her out of her reverie. For two hours, New Glasgow had suffered under the heavy Spartan bombardments, yet now it had fallen silent. The Gaian defences had been activated, and now the comforting glow of the tachyon field surrounded their base, preventing almost any damage.  
  
However, the energy to run the field was finite. Governor Charl had informed her they had enough energy to run the tachyon field for a week. Looking through the windows at the once-beautiful city though, Deirdre knew that the damage had already been done. After she had ranted at Lal, she had felt empty of nearly all emotion, as if a vacuum had suddenly appeared. It ate away at her hope like a parasite.  
  
"Put her on."  
  
Deirdre straightened in the chair, and when the screen flashed, showing the Spartan leader, she felt a surge of dislike towards the woman. Waiting for Santiago to speak, Deirdre tapped her fingers lightly on the arms of her chair.  
  
"My lady Deirdre, what a pleasant day, is it not? I see you enjoy the beauty of New Glasgow.tell me, how fare you groves?"  
  
Deirdre whitened with a burst of potent rage. She stood, and walked closer to the screen, her dress lightly brushing across the marble floor.  
  
"You know very well what state the groves are in, Santiago. As I know the state your army in the xenofungus is in. I thought Spartans were the ultimate warriors. Funny how a group of 'tree-huggers' and 'earthworms' managed to annihilate an entire force of your survivalist thugs."  
  
A momentary pause overtook Santiago's face, yet it was swiftly masked behind a false countenance of amiability.  
  
"Lady Deirdre, I wonder that you are still at New Glasgow. There are many threats on Planet, and New Glasgow is hardly the safest city, is it?"  
  
Deirdre laughed. "Of course it is safe, Santiago. While Gaians still live and breathe within its walls, this is the stronghold of our faction. No harm shall come to me here. I wish I could say the same for you, Santiago. Standing in a field of battle is certainly not the safest of places. One of my worms could easily burrow its way inside your head." She paused for a long moment. "I doubt it, though. Even for a worm, your head is far too repulsive."  
  
Santiago seemed to bristle; yet she shrugged, and continued. "I offer you peace, Lady Deirdre. Peace and safety for your faction."  
  
Deirdre raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Under what terms, Corazon?"  
  
Santiago grinned, and it seemed so feral and hate-filled that it was all Deirdre could do not to shiver. The leader of the Spartans spoke calmly, and collectively.  
  
"New Glasgow must be ceded to me. It shall be renamed Deirdre's Shame. The Gaian faction shall swear themselves to a pact with the Spartans, promising to serve me. In addition, all research data and energy credits must be given to my faction, with no conditions."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "Goodbye, Santiago."  
  
  
  
Ten minutes later, the Spartans attacked New Glasgow. Their artillery began bombarding once again, the shells ricocheting off the tachyon field, and the shrieking of the launchers sounding like the mythical harpies of Earth.  
  
The Spartan army charged. Lasers fired, and chaotic blurs and streaks of incandescent light flew across the lines. The Gaians stood at the walls, firing back at the Spartans with an intensity driven by a need for survival and vengeance. In every defenders heart there burned a need for blood, for they too had seen the preserves go up in lucid crimson flame.  
  
The aircraft, driven behind the city walls in need of refuelling were empty of pilots, for all fighters were needed to man the walls. Every ounce of fuel had been stripped for recreational facilities, and was added to keep the shields alive.  
  
The Spartans were now blasting with powerful artillery, and now instead of turning back the shots easily, the tachyon field seemed to scream like some wounded, enraged animal. Occasionally a few shells would blast through the shield, bursting into a spiral of concussive flame that roared with a voracious hunger.  
  
The Gaians returned fire.  
  
Despite heavy casualties, the Spartans were now beneath the walls, and were planting charges. Desperate to stop this, the commanders at the walls ordered a sally through the gates. While Gaian civilians struggled to hold the enemy off, probe teams disarmed the charges. After ten minutes, the charges were successfully neutralised, and, fleeing with no order whatsoever, the civilians drew back behind the walls. The Spartans drew up for another attack, and this time when they reached the walls, it seemed certain they would break through.  
  
However, the aircraft had been refuelled, and now they were launched into the skies. Slowly, the Spartans withdrew, faced by overwhelming fire from the sky, and supporting fire from the city walls. New Glasgow was safe for one more day.  
  
  
  
"Provost Zakharov. You have always been a good friend and benefactor of my faction. I prevail upon you now to aid me. You have seen how I stopped the first Spartan advance. With your help, I can rid this continent of the force that now besieges my city. I am sure that all Santiago's strength is here. If we can wipe these warriors out, the way to Sparta Command will be clear. You will be free to conduct your research."  
  
The academician smiled warily. "And what will you be free to do then, my lady? If you defeat Sparta and all her might, you will show yourself as a force to be reckoned with. Do you believe that Miriam and Morgan will not take advantage of your weakened state to strike your cities?"  
  
Deirdre's temper flared up. "And what if I do not, Zakharov? I cannot sit here and allow Santiago to win. You of all people know what is at stake here. Not just my faction, but Planet itself."  
  
Zakharov massaged his head for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was full of concern, and tired. "My lady. I am a simple researcher. My cities are few, and my people are no warriors."  
  
Deirdre rolled her eyes. "Tell that to Yang, Zakharov. He only lives now because of your leniency. If you tell me that your citizens are complete strangers to war, you are not as academic as I thought."  
  
Zakharov smiled. "It has always been a pleasure to work with you, Deirdre, which is more than I can say for fools like Lal, or totalitarian relics like Yang. We believe in a new world, my lady, a world where information flows as free as water, and where the peace and harmony of Planet can be preserved."  
  
Deirdre sighed with frustration. "But to realise that belief, Provost, we must fight for it. I thought once that we could rely on peaceful diplomacy, but I have been proved wrong. Please, old friend, will you aid me?"  
  
Zakharov closed his eyes, and seemed to shudder with an inner conflict. "My lady, I am sorry. I would if I could, but there is no way my forces can mobilise quickly enough."  
  
Deirdre leaned forward, sensing a weakness. "How long will it take to mobilise your forces, Zakharov?"  
  
The scientist sighed. "Three weeks, my lady. No less than that."  
  
Deirdre nodded curtly. "Then I must hold this city for three weeks. Will you aid me in three weeks time, Provost?"  
  
Zakharov nodded. "If you can hold the city for three weeks, you have my full support. You know there is no hope, do you not, Deirdre?"  
  
She knew, but at least this way, Santiago would not have New Glasgow. Zakharov would drive her back at least once, giving her faction time to elect a new leader, and time to mobilise the people for war.  
  
"Where there are loyal people, Zak, there is always hope. Now, forgive me, I must go. I have a city to hold."  
  
Zakharov exhaled. "Good luck, Deirdre." 


	5. City Fight

For a week the tachyon field remained stable, and the Gaians were able to beat back the sledgehammer of the Spartan advance. During those seven days, hundreds of civilians and soldiers gave their lives freely in a selfless sacrifice to stay the advance of Santiago and her forces.  
  
As the week ended, Deirdre became more and more bitter, and plunged into a pit of black despair from which she could not escape. She had contacted all the faction leaders on Planet, begging them for aid. The reactions had varied: Morgan laughed at her and said she was a foolish girl with no real idea of how the world worked; Miriam called down God's blessings upon her, yet would not commit herself and Yang was unconcerned, his territory was on the other side of the ocean.  
  
Therefore, New Glasgow stood alone against the tides of Spartans that swarmed around the perimeter; hungry, rabid wolves waiting for the guard to be dropped so that they could eat their fill.  
  
Every day Deirdre would wake, and stand before the window, staring at her city. It was impossible then to stop the tears. Although the bombardment had ruined a good amount of the groves, she knew that when the Spartans broke through, her city would be destroyed. More than a lifetimes work, doomed.  
  
Her generals were becoming desperate, and now, on the morning when the tachyon fields were due to fall, everybody was sinking into the same despair that held Deirdre. The army had withdrawn behind barricades erected in the streets. Ancient artillery models had been pulled out of storage, anything and everything, Deirdre had decreed, must go towards protecting the city.  
  
It had been done, and now everybody in the city bore some sort of weapon, though most were outdated guns brought from Earth that had lain in vaults all these years. The aircraft had left the city, aiming for Memory, where they must plan the next defence. Although Deirdre knew that if New Glasgow fell, her faction would be doomed, she would make it so that Santiago would be severely bled before she eradicated the last Gaian.  
  
"Lady! The field is down! The Spartans are through!"  
  
Deirdre dropped her head, fighting down the sudden icy sheet of terror that ran through her. Until now, she had convinced herself that the city would never fall. Now, however, she realised it would. In addition, when it did, the leader of the faction would be tied nicely in a tower, ready for the pleasure of Santiago.  
  
General Marco looked at her with worry, and said: "My lady, there is a plane ready for you. You can flee the city. Please, lady. You can fight another day, but do not throw your life away needlessly."  
  
Deirdre opened her mouth. There was a slight weakening within her, and she began to weep. "Oh, Marco.my whole life, I have been building this faction from the ground up. What is left if I am killed? Nothing. Planet will be destroyed, and it will be left to masochistic monsters like Corazon."  
  
Marco held her to him, and she felt the love he held for her. He was her oldest and most loyal supporter, and had been with her all of her life upon Planet. Whispering, he said. "Leave then, Deirdre. If you survive, so can our faction."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "No, Marco. How can I ask my people to fight, if I run and leave them to their fate? No. I must stay here, and may Planet forgive me. I have failed."  
  
Marco bit his lips, and hugged her tighter. "No, lady. You have not failed. People will remember this day, when the leader of the Gaians stayed with her people despite the danger. Your memory will remain, and so will the motivation for our people to fight. You know that is the most important thing, lady. Motivation."  
  
Deirdre blinked away the tears. "I am ready to face my fate, Marco. Assemble the Guard, I wish to go into the city for one last time."  
  
Marco opened his mouth, but something in her eyes must have told him she would not be argued with. He bowed, and was about to walk away when Deirdre's gasp made him turn.  
  
Something was clutching at her mind, almost clumsily. Deirdre groaned, and fell to her knees. Planet was trying to talk with her. "Planet, not now, please.not now."  
  
earthdeirdre. talk must we. danger grave you are in. fear not. we help. wait small time. help we give. help  
  
The grip on her mind loosened, and finally disappeared. A sudden, wild soaring of hope surged within her heart, and from that, she pulled strength enough to stand. Marco looked at her, and when he saw her smile, he spoke:  
  
"My lady, Planet spoke with you?"  
  
Deirdre nodded, and tried to speak. The experience of talking with planet left her mouth dry. Marco turned, and gestured to one of the aides. "Water, and quickly."  
  
The aide looked astounded, but he shrugged himself out of the reverie, and dashed off. When he returned, he carried a large metal flask, filled with water. Bowing, he handed it to Deirdre, who took large gulps of it, revelling in the cool feel of it trickling down her throat.  
  
"My thanks." She said to the boy. "Marco, Planet will help us against Santiago. We must wait a small time." She laughed suddenly. "By Planet, the more it talks to me, the more I begin to sound like it. Yes, we must wait a short time, and I believe we shall receive help."  
  
As she spoke, she felt once again the fierce pounding of hope, and she sniffed. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she turned to Marco.  
  
"Summon in the generals. Santiago will be stopped, no matter what the cost. Move! We have very little time!"  
  
  
  
The Spartans surged through the barriers, halting shortly as a storm of laser shots, bullets and shells blasted around them. Hundreds of them died for every step they took, but there were far more Spartans than there were Gaians.  
  
Approaching the barricades, the Spartans fired. The shots struck the Gaian forces, and shouts of pain formed a strange music when combined with the screech of the weapons. More Spartans entered the city, and the Gaians continued to fire their weapons at the enemy.  
  
Eventually, the sheer press of the enemy forced the defenders back. The lines broke, and to a man, the Gaians fled. When Deirdre saw this on screen, she smiled. The plan was working well.  
  
The army appeared to be running, and it looked scattered. The small groups of fighters fled into the narrow streets of the city; entered the tall towers; anything that offered protection from the Spartan army was filled with Gaians, who struck like hornets when the enemy entered their territory.  
  
The fight for New Glasgow became a bloody affair, with both sides striking without mercy. The Gaians, despite being driven back, were falling onto better defended positions, whereas the Spartans were forced to fight against troops on higher ground, protected by more barricades.  
  
Deirdre glanced at Lindly, who smiled, and nodded. A sigh of relief escaped Deirdre's mouth, and she settled back. There was no use fretting anymore. The city would either fall or not. This compound where she sat was in the centre of the city, and would be the very last building to fall.  
  
"My lady, look!"  
  
The Gaians had stopped firing, and now only Spartan shots rang across the city. There was a strange silence over the Gaian lines. Deirdre looked at Lindly, whose forehead was creased in concentration.  
  
She was contacting the Empath Guild, who waited with the mindworms beneath the city, in the sewers. Once again, Deirdre gave thanks that she had decided to fund the Empath Guild. It gave her an edge over all the other leaders, who were still years behind her in psychic research.  
  
"Lady, the mindworms!"  
  
The mindworms were writhing through the drains. From above, mindworms dropped upon the Spartan forces, the strange psychic calls draining them of their will to fight. Agonized screams split the air as the worms began to embed themselves into the brains of their victims.  
  
More worms dropped from above, and now yet more were oozing in a great white mass along the streets. Once, Deirdre would have turned her head and wept at the horror of such a death, yet know her eyes were bright, and she smiled when she heard the screams. If the Spartans dared to fight her, let them suffer the consequences.  
  
The Spartan lines began to collapse, and they scattered. The Gaians advanced then, driving the enemy back out of the city. Struck with terror by the worms, the Spartans didn't even attempt to fight back. For one more day, New Glasgow was safe. 


	6. An Ending?

Deirdre watched with a sinking heart as her city fell to the Spartans. Four weeks her forces had held it, locking Santiago's troops in a terrifying house-to-house battle that left little of the once proud city standing.  
  
A part of her felt outraged at Zakharov. He had promised her that he would aid her within three weeks, and for four, the Gaians had fought. They fought with everything they had, giving up their lives to protect the city until aid arrived.  
  
Her ally failed her. He hope had failed her. Even Planet, incapable of human reasoning, had failed her. She would have cried, if she had any tears left. She would have prayed to God, if she had any faith in his benevolence. Everything that could have been done had been, and now she was at the end. The city had been ground into dust, and it was only a matter of hours before her faction followed in its example.  
  
The Spartans were entering the compound, and it was here that the Gaians were making their last stand. Every available man and woman stood and fired at the enemy until they were killed or until they ran out of ammunition. Looking out, Deirdre stifled her sob. The Council often dubbed her pacifistic people cowards, yet now, looking at unarmed warriors throwing themselves upon the enemy, she felt a rising of pride. Let the Believers laugh, and let the Morganites hoard their energy, when it came to it, every Gaian here had more courage than any of them.  
  
"How long until the Spartans break through, Marco?"  
  
Her general, like her, had hardly slept at all during the week. He shrugged, and breathed out heavily.  
  
"The Guard can hold this place for another day, my lady. Nothing longer. They are exhausted, and the vile Spartan Colonel is resting soldiers when we have to fight continually with tired warriors. It is only a matter of time before we are wiped out."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. It was hopeless. There were no longer any words left to describe how she felt about the situation. Every time she looked around at the faces of her generals, she could feel their despair and their sense of futility.  
  
"I should have surrendered, Marco. Anything would have been better than this."  
  
He looked angry. "No, lady! You did the right thing. Do you think Santiago will have remained sated with your surrender? No, if you allowed her forces within the city, our faction would be a mere slave to her whims. Do not talk of failure, Deirdre."  
  
Lindly, standing to the other side of Deirdre nodded. "The general speaks well, lady. I for one support your choice fully, and look at the people that are dying as we speak, for you and our cause. No, lady. If you had surrendered, then you would have made a mistake, but now? You have made the right, and honourable choice."  
  
Sudden shouts below the tower made Deirdre turn. In the courtyard, small forces of fifty Spartans were slicing through the defenders like a hot knife through butter. Panic seized Deirdre, and she turned.  
  
"Santiago comes, and she brings her Death Patrol. This is the end, gentlemen."  
  
The heavy synthmetal doors opened, and a small division of the Guard entered. Their leader, the youthful Commander Diehl, bowed to Deirdre.  
  
"My lady, we are here. Santiago has broken through our lines, and is fighting through the lower reaches of the tower to bring you to her so- called justice."  
  
Marco also bowed. "My lady. It has been a pleasure to serve you."  
  
The room fell silent, and every general present bowed. Deirdre felt tears sting her eyes, and for a moment, it was all she could do just to stand silently. Finally, she found a voice, and said calmly.  
  
"On this day, our faction is withering. By the morrow, it will have died. Let us remain in the memory at least, of every person on Planet. I for one will not go easily to Santiago. I ask you, stand with me this last time, so that she may know that she can never really defeat us. Can she beat a memory, my friends?"  
  
A resounding "No!" filled the room, and the generals, mainly older men, hastened to outfit themselves with weapons. Diehl pressed a switch, and the doors closed. They boomed with a dark, horrifying clash.  
  
Through the window, Deirdre could hear the sounds of battle. Her people were fighting. Fighting, and dying. They knew Santiago had broken through, and were preparing to sacrifice themselves dearly.  
  
"General Marco. I want to talk with my people for the last time. Open all frequencies, and activate every comm-link."  
  
The general nodded, and after a few seconds, Deirdre was able to walk over to the control screen, and speak. She waited, gathering her thoughts, and then spoke:  
  
"My Gaians. Planet is pleased with our sacrifice. Through our blood on her soil, life anew shall arise. Like a phoenix from the dying ashes, so shall our faction rise once again. I pray that we die bravely, and that through our example, through our courage, determination and bravery, others will be moved to do the same. I call Planet's blessing upon us all. We will know true peace."  
  
Through the sounds of battle, a plunge of roaring shouts could be heard, followed by singing. Deirdre sat, and choked with sorrow. Her people sang their praise to the beauty and majesty of Planet. They sang as they fought, they sang as they killed, and they sang as they died.  
  
The generals had begun singing to, their voices strange, yet carrying a message of hope to the people in the room. Deirdre looked at Lindly. "Goodbye, Lindly. I trust you rest well with Planet."  
  
The woman smiled. "I do my lady."  
  
"Marco, I require a weapon. The leader of the Gaians is no weakling to simper before fools like the Spartans. Come, I require only a pistol."  
  
Marco bowed lower, and reached beside him, throwing her a gun sheathed in silvery material. It had a cold feel to it, and when she hefted it, levelling it directly at the doors, it felt alien and strange.  
  
"I was not bred for war."  
  
The words seemed so strange, yet the generals all acknowledged it. Sighing, Deirdre waited for Santiago to arrive. It was not a long wait.  
  
  
  
The doors exploded, and the room was filled with smoke. Without thought, Deirdre fired at the space where the doors had been. The gun seemed to pulsate, and from it blasted a sheet of blue light that struck through the air.  
  
She heard a scream, and then the air was full of the shots. Many of them sliced above her head, and, realising she was in the line of fire, Deirdre through herself behind the throne, and fired. Her brain had begun to act like that of a nanorobot, having one single, prime function. Her fingers operated like a primitive piston; aiming, firing, aiming firing.  
  
The generals and the Guard did the same, and for five minutes the shots continued to be exchanged. Soon though, the Spartans stood in the throne room, weapons at the heads of every Gaian in the room. Standing, Deirdre dropped her gun.  
  
Santiago strode through, her nostrils flaring imperiously. She was a striking woman, more handsome than pretty. She had a faintly square like head, with bronzed flesh. Every inch of her was hard muscle, and she held a barbaric ferocity that gleamed in her eyes. Despite the superior countenance of the woman, standing there, Deirdre felt worth a hundred times more than the Spartan Colonel.  
  
"Does the leader of the Gaians usually hide behind her throne?"  
  
"Does the leader of the Spartans normally bluster like an adolescent male?"  
  
Santiago laughed. "You always were an arrogant hussy, Deirdre. Stand aside. I have won, and if you acknowledge it, you can walk free."  
  
Deirdre chuckled. "Free of any respect and honour, you mean, Corazon."  
  
Santiago shrugged. "You never had any honour, Deirdre. A pacifistic, democratic whore has no need of respect."  
  
Once, that would have annoyed her, now it just amused her that a leader so secure in her victory would have any need of taunts.  
  
"Santiago, you have won. Only a child would still deny that."  
  
A pleasured grin appeared on the Spartan's face, but there remained a trace of tension behind her eyes. "Lady Deirdre, you warriors still fight. I command you to proclaim a surrender. You shall be spared if you order your people to stop their fighting."  
  
"No."  
  
Santiago snarled, and ordered one of the warriors in her Death Patrol: "Shoot any general, Marshal." Turning back to Deirdre, she shook her head disapprovingly. "Lady, what do you say?"  
  
Marco shouted to Deirdre. "Do not do this, Deirdre!"  
  
Santiago pointed at Marco. "Kill the old fool!"  
  
Deirdre moved, running towards Santiago, and shrieking: "No!"  
  
It was too late. A streak of golden laser fire struck Marco full in the chest. He crumpled, and died immediately. A primitive emotion overcame Deirdre, and she leapt at Corazon, spitting at her face.  
  
"You devil! What right have you to do this thing? We are peaceful people, no threat to you!"  
  
Santiago slapped Deirdre, knocking her to the floor. Standing over her, Santiago kicked her in the back. "I have the right of conquest, Gaian. That gives me any right I choose to take. Now call off your forces, or another shall die."  
  
Deirdre snarled. "Do what you like, Santiago! I shall not die humiliated!"  
  
Santiago gave a feral smile. "I do like it when they are harder to break. It offers much more enjoyment. Marshal, kill that one."  
  
She jerked her finger towards a random general, who had time to bow his head towards Deirdre before he was shot. Now the rage was so great the Deirdre merely shook, her knuckles whitening.  
  
"Let me try again, Deirdre. Surrender!"  
  
Deirdre shook her head. She was unable to speak. Laughing, Santiago gestured again. Another general died, this time with a grunt. Outside, the sounds of battle increased, if anything, intensifying dramatically.  
  
"Deirdre?"  
  
Another shake of the head, and another general died.  
  
"You are cold-blooded, Gaian. Aren't you supposed to be peace-loving? Do you enjoy this? Are you beginning to love blood?"  
  
Deirdre breathed out, stopping the sobs. "I enjoy nothing you provide, Santiago."  
  
Once again, another general died. Santiago continued to ask for surrender, and the generals continued to die. With every new death, Deirdre felt a shame to great to hold. She should be dying. Her followers should not be dying for her silence. Yet she could not bring herself to end the war her people were fighting. She had said they would fight to the last, and they would.  
  
It continued, until Lindly stood forward. Her eyes were closed, but her voice murmured, containing a suggestion of power: "Stop."  
  
Santiago raised an eyebrow. "And who are you, woman, to question my authority?"  
  
Lindly smiled. "Your death."  
  
From the ventilation shafts, mindworms seemed to flow, a flood of the creatures, who seemed to roil with pent up frustration. A momentary alarm appeared on Santiago's face, but it was quickly suppressed. She laughed at Deirdre:  
  
"You think your Empath can match mine? You are more foolish than I thought, Deirdre."  
  
From behind her, a tall man about twelve years older than Lindly strode to the fore. His eyes to were closed, and the mindworms halted. Lindly gestured, and the worms began moving towards the Spartans, before being halted by the man.  
  
One Spartan warrior strode to the fore, and aimed his pistol at Lindly. Santiago lashed at him, her clenched fist snapping his neck. She cursed: "Nobody fire at the woman. If you break Nael's concentration, it could spell death for us all."  
  
Deirdre merely watched. Lindly was her most promising Empath, and had been training with mindworms since she was very small, but never before had she wrestled with another talent for control over the boil. The Gaian leader held her breath. Slowly, but surely, the greater power of Lindly won over, and without warning, the mindworms seemed to spring towards Nael, burying themselves in his skull. He died screaming. Santiago shrugged, and said:  
  
"Kill her."  
  
This time the scream from Deirdre's throat was louder than any before. Looking at Santiago, she threw herself to the floor, sobbing: "Please, I surrender. Do not kill her! Please, mercy!"  
  
Santiago pondered for a moment, leaning close towards Deirdre, and then she giggled almost absently. "Too late, Deirdre. Listen, your warriors have died. There is no need for a surrender."  
  
The flash that took Lindly's life seemed to take hours to travel the metre across the air to her chest. With a retching gasp, Lindly doubled over, choking for breath, before she died. Deirdre slapped Santiago hard, and then threw herself over Lindly's body, crying hopelessly.  
  
The room erupted into chaos, as laser shots rang across the room. Noise rose, and it melded into a cacophonic roar. Deirdre was empty of everything. The young girl lying on the floor would have been her successor; she was as much a symbol of her faction as Deirdre was. Not only had Santiago destroyed the city of New Glasgow, but she had killed the dearest friend Deirdre had ever had.  
  
Lost to all developments around her, Deirdre hardly noticed when the urgent message buzzed across the comm-link:  
  
"The Council has come! The Council has come! We are saved! The Spartans flee, we are saved!"  
  
They had come too late. 


	7. Compensation

Three hours later, the control room had been cleared, and Deirdre waited on her throne for the Council to arrive. Her army had driven back the Spartans who had tried to flee the armies of the other factions, and her Guard had led a successful counter-attack against Santiago and the Death Patrol. They celebrated how they had saved their leader from death, yet they had failed to capture Santiago.  
  
Deirdre wished she could feel some sort of elation at her victory, but to her, what should have been a wondrous emotion was merely a cruel chill emptiness of any feeling. The Council had arrived, but their endless conniving and intriguing had allowed her second most beautiful city to be ground into virtual dust. She was infused with hatred so potent that sitting their, her knuckles whitened with the pressure with which she gripped the arms of her throne.  
  
"Lady, the Council has arrived. Will you permit them entrance?"  
  
Deirdre shifted on her seat, and sighed. "They shall enter."  
  
The doors swung open, and the Council strode in. Brother Lal strode in at the front, wearing a perfect white robe with his blue turban. He bowed, and spoke, his voice quiet and unassuming:  
  
"Greetings, Lady Deirdre. I bring the power of the Council to aid the beleaguered Gaian faction."  
  
Deirdre smiled patronisingly. "Of course, Lal. But you see, your aid comes to late! For weeks I have waited, and my faction has fought against foreign aggression, and now, when you have nothing to lose, you choose to 'aid' me."  
  
Sister Miriam walked past Lal, and even sitting a good three metres from her, Deirdre could sense the charisma and almost crackling force of her will. Miriam made the sign of the cross, and then said:  
  
"May God bless your courage, Lady Deirdre. My followers heard your words, and acknowledged the sacrifice of your people. Our chapels offered their communion for your cause, and now I offer you the aid of my faction in restoring this city to its true guise. New Glasgow had always been a near Eden on Planet, which, once again we humans destroyed. Allow me to make amends for our venial sin, by restoring Eden."  
  
Deirdre nodded graciously. "Bold words, Miriam. However, in Genesis, when Eden was lost, it was impossible to regain. New Glasgow has been ruined, and never again shall our groves receive the tender care of my people."  
  
Morgan laughed from his position behind Lal, and Yang of the Hive sniggered.  
  
Deirdre raised an eyebrow at Morgan. "Forgive me, Morgan. I failed to notice you. Yes, maybe it was because Santiago is not offering you her special services."  
  
Morgan reddened with anger. "My lady, there was no involvement between my faction and Santiago's, I assure you." He murmured to himself, "Trust the Gaian whore to worry about plants."  
  
Deirdre stood. "When Morgan has learnt some of the art of diplomacy, then we can talk. Now forgive me, ladies and gentlemen, I am quite busy. Leave me."  
  
Lal frowned. "My lady, I am sure Morgan did not mean what he said. Please, we must speak with you."  
  
Deirdre laughed bitterly. "As you talked with me when I needed your help, Lal?"  
  
He blushed. "I was wrong, Deirdre, and I realise that now. The Council was reconvened last week, at a request from Provost Zakharov. His skilful talking has saved you, my lady. You owe him a large debt."  
  
Deirdre glanced at Zakharov. "I thought you had betrayed me, Zakharov." She began to weep. "I held the city for four weeks. Four! My people. Hundreds of thousands of them have been killed! We did everything we could to stop her, Provost, and you never came." She paused, and then faced them all. "None of you ever came, damn you! And now you arrive, offering me pointless compensation for mistakes you made? What is the point? Why should I listen to any of you?"  
  
Lal stepped forward. "Lady, we were wrong, and we have admitted it. We offer you generous compensation. Thirty thousand energy credits shall be given to you, as shall large enough supplies of minerals to rebuild this city. In addition, the Council has undertaken military action against Santiago of the Spartans. Sixty percent of all plunder shall be given to the Gaians, as shall the Spartan bases of Sparta Command, Bunker 118 and Freehold Keep."  
  
Deirdre's mouth tightened. "Do you think all that means anything to me? I have seen my friends killed, my people butchered, and my city has been crushed. Nothing can replace my friends, Lal, nothing!"  
  
He sighed. "Nevertheless, my lady. The terms remain the same. Our forces are here, ready to strike at Santiago." A smile touched his lips: "Your forces are also mobilised, lady, and have been outfitted by the Council. The Council shall meet any costs this war means for the Gaians. We do not expect you to repay us, lady. This is our way of an apology."  
  
Deirdre sat. They were indeed generous terms. The faces of Lindly and Marco seemed to float in the air in front of her, and she sighed. They were gone forever, she would mourn, and then move on. Her faction would remain on Planet forever, she must see to their future.  
  
"I accept your apologies."  
  
  
  
Evening fell over New Glasgow, and the Gaians celebrated their victory. The weapons of the Spartans had been taken over by the State, but the bodies and clothes of their enemy had not been.  
  
Seized by a desire for vengeance greater than they had received, the Gaians burned the corpses and clothing, creating a huge pyre that rose into the sky about thirty metres above the city. The heat generated by the fire was so hot that Deirdre could feel it from where she watched on her balcony.  
  
Today was the day when she said goodbye. She would bid farewell to Lindly, Marco and all her loyal followers. Today she would bury her dead, and would announce a Vendetta upon Colonel Santiago. Her faction had been given the responsibility of capturing Bunker 118, supported by forces from the University.  
  
It would not be easy. Bunker 118 had been fortified from the start, and was Santiago's second base. All facilities within the city were geared for war. Part of Deirdre was afraid, the other part eager.  
  
"A sad night, is it not, my lady?"  
  
Deirdre turned, and noticed Zakharov. He was wearing deep black robes, in respect for the Gaians who died. She nodded. "Aye, Provost. A sad night for New Glasgow."  
  
Zakharov moved to stand beside her: "It is a sad night for all, Deirdre. I, feel ashamed."  
  
Deirdre turned away. "Why is that, Provost?"  
  
"I failed you."  
  
She shook her head. "No, you did not."  
  
Zakharov breathed in deeply. "Yes, lady. I failed you. You held the city, and for longer than required. Far longer, but my bumbling slowness cost you greatly. I tried to get the Council to see sense. Lal puts it to finely. It was touch and go for a moment whether they aided you. Miriam and Morgan were both voting against military aid for you. Yang was following their example. Lal would have done, if I had not convinced him otherwise. With your vote obvious, and Santiago's also clear, the motion would have failed." He smiled. "I convinced Yang to change his mind, and, as Lal had a casting vote, the Council decided to send aid."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "Could you not have sent your own armies?"  
  
Zakharov closed his eyes, and hunched over. "Santiago attacked my holdings viciously as well, lady. Her air force blasted University Base, killing many of my people. I would have been here earlier had it not been for her vile strike."  
  
Deirdre knew Zakharov would not have betrayed her. She smiled. "By Miriam's God, Zak. You are too good to me. By rights I should be dead now, but you.how can I ever repay you?"  
  
Zakharov shrugged. "It is of no matter, my lady. I can't stand Santiago, and you have always been a good friend."  
  
Deirdre couldn't help herself. Ignoring all thoughts of protocol and decency, she clasped her arms around Zakharov, beginning to cry. All the pain of the past weeks erupted, and she sobbed and bawled. Zakharov stood mute, and waited until she had stopped crying.  
  
  
  
The day broke fresh above New Glasgow, and the reinforcements from her cities arrayed themselves for battle. The few hundred Gaians left alive after the fighting in the city formed their own unit, named the Spartan's Death. The other faction leaders had provided professional battle trainers for the unit, and Deirdre estimated that by the time the army reached Bunker 118, they would be able to match anything Santiago attacked with.  
  
Standing once again on the balcony of her tower, Deirdre looked down at her army. It was huge. Never before had the Gaian militia been assembled for war, and now it seemed that a sea of green was standing still to here the words of the leader.  
  
"My Gaians! Yesterday we won a great victory, against impossible odds! Now we go on to avenge our suffering! Santiago shall know our wrath, and we will bring down her strongholds around her ears! No peace, no quarter, and no mercy!"  
  
The answering shouts of approval could have shaken the tower. All the faction leaders nodded approvingly, bur Deirdre couldn't care less about them. Any leader except Zakharov had already proved that they were worth nothing. Deirdre offered Zakharov her arm, and entered her tower.  
  
In two weeks they would leave to attack Santiago. The two weeks would be long enough to ready her forces properly for war, allow her to construct replacement planes, and to upgrade her ships to the designs they had captured from a Spartan naval officer.  
  
Deirdre smiled to herself. Santiago would soon die. 


	8. Doves of War

The Gaian army was ready for battle. Six million strong, clad in the strongest silksteel armour, they waited patiently. Every legion carried their own standard, and seeing the steel banners raised into the air made Deirdre's blood sing.  
  
Every banner was black, the symbol for mourning, yet on it had been sewn the Gaian rose, a symbol for the hope that peace could once again reign. Supporting the main bulk of the army, which was mainly infantry, were about three hundred thousand warriors laden with quick-to-assemble artillery pieces.  
  
Her two greatest assets, however, were her aircraft; lying sleek and polished amidst the cleared ruins of the Senate buildings, and her tanks; silent, megalithic monsters standing guard like clumps of iron rock.  
  
Her people had surprised her. Three million men, she had been told, badly equipped, with poor morale. She had received six million men, all well- equipped, and eager for the blood of Santiago and her minions.  
  
It had been necessary to stay longer in New Glasgow than she had intended. Two months longer, to be precise. The other members of the Council had left long ago, readying their own forces for the day when every able-bodied soldier on the planet, not marching under the Spartan sign, would begin to systematically wipe all traces of Colonel Corazon Santiago off Planet.  
  
All members of the Council that is, except Zakharov. The attacks against Sparta Command, Bunker 118 and Freehold Keep would be a joint effort, shared equally between the University and the Gaians.  
  
It seemed to Deirdre that a needless amount of military force was being exerted to eliminate Santiago, but all her generals had assured her that the three bases they were planning to attack were the strongest of all bases within the domain of Sparta.  
  
"My lady, your forces are prepared, shall I give the order?"  
  
General Diehl waited for her answer, which she gave within a few moments:  
  
"Yes, order my army into their shuttles. We fly to Bunker 118."  
  
Diehl bowed, and relayed commands across the comm-links. Like a slow, lethargic machine, the Gaian army, looking more like a field of grass, began to enter their crisp white shuttles.  
  
Soon, Deirdre thought, soon my people will have their vengeance.  
  
"Lady, a fine shuttle, I must say."  
  
Zakharov, leader of the University faction was already waiting in her shuttle. He sat with his back straight in the seats and despite traces of tension across his eyes he looked relaxed.  
  
"It should be. I seem to spend more time flying between Gaia's Landing and here than I spend walking on the ground. And I do not intend to travel uncomfortably."  
  
Zakharov nodded.  
  
"Do you miss Gaia's Landing, my lady?"  
  
Deirdre sighed, before giving a short nod of her head:  
  
"Yes, I miss it every day. Have you been to my city, Provost?"  
  
A small shake of the head.  
  
"No, lady. I have never had the time. I have been told it is more beautiful that New Glasgow is."  
  
"Was," she corrected him shortly. "New Glasgow is now a hopeless ruin." She smiled though. "Seeing Gaia's Landing is what keeps my hope alive. Without the preserves and groves of Gaia's Landing, the whole Gaian faction would serve no purpose. It has taken us years to build that city up from the small collection of huts, to the great, soaring cityscape it is now."  
  
Zakharov smiled. "Yes, I understand. We do tend to grow attached to our first base. University Base in unrivalled amongst my own cities, and quite rightly so. It is only fitting that the site where my faction began should remain the finest memory to our greatness."  
  
Deirdre laughed. "It is not the greatness of my faction that makes Gaia's Landing special Zakharov, nor did it make New Glasgow special. It is the beauty. The beauty of Earth plants and animals existing in the domed preserves is what makes my heart soar. The fact that those plants that cannot survive in the wilds of Planet can exist within my domes, that is the true magnificence of my city. Magnificence, not because it is new, or alien, but because it is familiar, a last testament to Earth, a promise that never shall the Gaians repeat the same mistake of Earth."  
  
Zakharov breathed in. "When this is over, Deirdre, I would like to visit Gaia's Landing. Will you permit it?"  
  
Deirdre chuckled. "Of course I shall."  
  
The shuttle began to shake, and Deirdre sat beside Zakharov. The members of her council, consisting mainly of Senators and generals, entered the shuttle, and sat behind her and Zakharov. An air of pensive silence fell across the room, as the pilot manoeuvred the shuttle up from the airfields, into the pale blue sky.  
  
Glancing at the window, Deirdre noticed the thousands of shuttles that flew around her own. Doves of war, she thought to herself. White birds of graceful beauty, bearing the terror of war within their holds.  
  
A shiver ran down her spine, and Zakharov whispered:  
  
"Take courage, Deirdre. This war is necessary, and does not breach the Peace of Gaia. Remember New Glasgow and its defilation, if you must have strength, but do not lose heart now. We are so close."  
  
Deirdre turned to Zakharov, and breathed in. A nervous feeling had seized her. Was she doing the right thing? Was she destroying everything that her people held dear? Was she-  
  
She silenced the thoughts in an instant. Such doubts could linger, and, like the implanted larvae of the mindworm, resurface, more terrible and infinitely more dangerous.  
  
"Order the aircraft to fly all around us. I don't want our shuttles to be shot down by Spartan aircraft. We have too much to lose."  
  
The Gaian generals hastened to answer her request.  
  
Zakharov said. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, order the same for my shuttles, please. I can't abide war, and I do not wish to involve myself too deeply in this one."  
  
Deirdre faced him. "Provost, if you do not involve yourself in this war, how will you know what is going on?"  
  
Zakharov. "Oh, I shall watch, and conduct the larger schemes, but my generals are all capable, and need no prompting from me to do things right. If you look at it, your generals would be doing what you asked them to anyway."  
  
Deirdre shrugged. "It doesn't harm to make sure."  
  
"Colonel Santiago is on Channel 3, Deirdre. She wishes to speak with you."  
  
Zakharov said. "Deirdre, you can handle this. I fear I may say something undiplomatically to the beasts face."  
  
Deirdre smiled sweetly. "Why thank you, Provost. I shall do my best not to shout at her." She turned to the general in charge of the vid-screen. "Put her on."  
  
An image of Santiago, clad in full silksteel armour appeared. Her upper lip was curled in disgust.  
  
"Lady Deirdre, what a pleasant surprise. Have you managed to rebuild New Glasgow yet?"  
  
Deirdre laughed. "Not yet, fool. I will wait until Sparta Command is rubble beneath my feet for that. You see, my faction is far too busy with this little war you have started to rebuild my city."  
  
Santiago grunted. "I am no fool, Deirdre. You propose to attack the three most highly defended cities on Planet, with what? Pacifists?"  
  
Deirdre paused, putting on an air of thick sarcasm. "Santiago, are these pacifist's the same ones that have annihilated two of your armies?"  
  
A curse of pure rage. "I have no wish to bandy words with you, Deirdre. I came to warn you away. If you are fool enough to attack my territories, then your faction shall be completely and utterly destroyed."  
  
Deirdre threw up her hands in mock hopelessness, and then spat towards the screen. "Shut up, Santiago. Your time is up; I shall enjoy watching you writhe in my punishment sphere. Before you die, you shall regret the day your crossed my faction. Deirdre out."  
  
The vid-screen blanked out to a pure white, and Deirdre leant back. All her emotion had resurfaced. Pain and sadness from the death of Lindly, Marco and her generals; hatred for Santiago; fear and hopelessness.  
  
"Lady, you scare me sometimes. That talk of the sphere, were you toying with her?"  
  
Deirdre glared at him. "I do not joke about pain, Zakharov. She caused every member of my faction pain, and I shall repay it. It is simple vengeance."  
  
He said nothing more after that. 


	9. Living Hell

"Request support from the Hawks, Diehl. We need to stop those aircraft before they destroy our transports. How far away are the Spartans?"  
  
Commander Diehl sighed, and from his position on the right of Deirdre he spoke quietly.  
  
"Five minutes, my lady."  
  
"And the Hawks?"  
  
"Ten. They had to land to refuel."  
  
Deirdre bit her lips.  
  
"So we have five minutes in which we are completely defenceless against Santiago's aircraft. By Planet, I thought the Admiral was supposed to think of these things. Where is she now?"  
  
Diehl said.  
  
"Down there with the Hawks. Lisa did think of it, my lady, but she thought the Spartans would not notice a five-minute gap. Otherwise, she would have had to pull aircraft from the bombing missions over Bunker 118. It was a gamble that failed, lady."  
  
Deirdre groaned. "A costly gamble, Diehl. A gamble that could cost us the war."  
  
Zakharov cursed.  
  
"Can we not launch chaff grenades, Commander? That would disrupt them at the very least, perhaps long enough for the Hawks to arrive."  
  
Deirdre glanced at Diehl. "Would that work?"  
  
Diehl paused, his youthful face creased with a frown. He smoothed his deep black hair away from his forehead, and then shrugged.  
  
"It should do, my lady, but there is a high risk that it could disrupt many of our transports in the process."  
  
Zakharov stared closely at him.  
  
"Is it worth the risk, Commander, or not?"  
  
Diehl looked back at Deirdre.  
  
"I believe it is worth the risk, lady."  
  
Deirdre nodded.  
  
"Have it done then, slow down our transports, and activate tachyon fields."  
  
Diehl stood, walking over to the comm-link. A few barked commands later, and the shuttles around them slowed, and faintly glowing fields surrounded the ships. Deirdre waited another minute, and then the Spartans appeared.  
  
Their glossy grey armour seemed to shine. Vengeful angels, thought Deirdre, soaring towards her faction to pronounce their dark judgment. They were angels with a terrible, singular purpose. To kill. It was funny how nearly everything in war had connotations of peace. Doves carrying war, angels killing, the links were endless. Perhaps there was no difference? After all, her faction were the pacifists of Planet, yet were now flying to deal death to Santiago.  
  
Deirdre shuddered. She made no sense. War made no sense. In fact, nothing in her life made sense anymore. She blinked, shutting away the doubts that wormed within her mind. At the wrong time, doubts could kill. She needed to concentrate.  
  
The Spartans were drawing nearer, faster than Deirdre could have imagined. Everything was happening so fast. An icy sheet passed through her.  
  
"Release the chaff grenades."  
  
Diehl's calm voice was the complete opposite of the turmoil churning through Deirdre. She would have begun shivering in her seat had it not been for the complete, overwhelming fear. She was, in fact, too fearful to shiver.  
  
From every transport, grenades were released. Thousands of tiny black flies swarmed out of small holes in the shuttles. They descended down towards the earth, but before they could fall too far, they exploded.  
  
Deirdre's mouth dropped open. It was so beautiful! Every sort of colour imaginable played across the sky, like fireworks. They were more beautiful than the New Year celebrations at Gaia's Landing, for these seemed to hum with an innate music that permeated through even the silksteel chassis.  
  
A short sob escaped her lips, as the light flashed blue, then green, then a brilliantly vivid purple. Spartan aircraft plummeted towards the ground, even their comm-links dead. A shudder ran up her back, and tickled her shoulders. Many of the aircraft were down, but enough had flown through the chaff field created by the grenades, and were now wreaking havoc with their laser fire.  
  
Her heart pumping in her chest, Deirdre closed her eyes, saying a quick and quiet prayer to Planet in order to calm herself. She had been close to battle before. Hell, she had been in the shooting with Santiago's Death Patrol, but this air battle terrified her more than anything else. The Spartan craft weaved around the shuttles, striking the weaker armour underneath the craft. The air came alive with flashing red laser fire, and the shrieks as they tore through engines soon came to replace the resonant hum.  
  
Zakharov was standing now, obviously agitated.  
  
"De-activate the chaff fields, we must take evasive action!"  
  
Deirdre nodded. It was sound advice.  
  
"Have it done, Diehl. The Hawks will be here in five minutes, we must conserve as many of our shuttles as possible before then."  
  
Diehl licked his lips. "My lady, if we do this then we may-"  
  
Deirdre yelled.  
  
"Then we may have a chance of escaping. If not, we must sit here, while Spartan tigers prowl outside our nest. The chaff field which stopped a lot of Spartan aircraft will stop the Hawks as well, Diehl. Do it!"  
  
Diehl nodded, and once again, barked commands crossed the comm-links. The flickering multi-coloured lights disappeared, and Deirdre leaned back in her seat. Taking a breath, she turned to Zakharov.  
  
"Provost, please, sit. If we get hit, you are more likely to survive sitting down."  
  
Zakharov raised an eyebrow.  
  
"The odds are not that different, Deirdre. Experiments have been done about these situations. The likelihood of sitting down making a difference is the same likelihood as escaping from this situation."  
  
Deirdre closed her eyes.  
  
"And the odds?"  
  
"Abysmally low."  
  
  
  
Three minutes passed, and they seemed to Deirdre to be some of the longest minutes in her life. Spartan aircraft tore through hundreds of University and Gaian shuttles. When her shuttles plummeted, Deirdre could almost feel the people within dying, the sudden change in the balance of nature, the affront to Gaia, Mother Nature- whatever you called the sense of a living planet, Deirdre knew it felt those deaths. Thousands dead from one laser shot.  
  
The equations, the maths of it that only someone like Zakharov could pinpoint still evaded her. All Deirdre knew was that her people, and the people of her friend and ally, were dying all around her, in the thousands.  
  
Twice they nearly came close to death, but the skilful manoeuvring of her pilots always managed to evade the dogfights, steering with commendable speed and efficiency away from the main bulk of the Spartan squadrons.  
  
Two more minutes.  
  
Three more shuttles exploded, and this time Deirdre saw hundreds of people falling out of the wreckage, their arms flapping frantically. Many were burning, other were just falling, falling to their inevitable death.  
  
One more minute.  
  
The scene had taken on a surreal, almost blurred edge. Shuttles which were slow and fat were attempting to evade destruction from the faster, more adept Spartan pilots. In all directions, noted Deirdre, something was burning. Above, the shuttles burned, to the sides, the shuttles burned, but below? The xenofungus and the forests burned. The land between Bunker 118 and New Glasgow had become a living hell. Flames reached high into the sky, and from the way heat waves shifted every single image, Deirdre could tell the temperature was phenomenal.  
  
The Hawks had come!  
  
Lean ebony machines, they plunged into the chaotic, shifting hell of milling Spartan aircraft, and lumbering shuttles. Saviours, thought Deirdre. They had come. Now the Spartans fled, yet the superior Gaian aircraft caught every one of them. Every wreck fell below, and Deirdre began to weep.  
  
Thirty miles of Planet was in flame. 


	10. Planet Scar

More than thirty miles of Planet were burning? Curse the war!  
  
Deirdre surveyed the landscape with a hopeless look. The Spartan threat in the skies was ended, and so now her shuttles had landed on a rocky hill in the wilderness between Bunker 118 and New Glasgow.  
  
Her warriors had unloaded, and were now attempting to douse the fire. It was a near-impossible task. The heat was tremendous, and Deirdre could feel the unbearable heat beginning to curl the hairs on her skin.  
  
Aircraft from above released thousands of gallons of water onto the fire, in a vain attempt to hold the voracious advance. White steam filled the sky, mixing with the acrid black smoke.  
  
Deirdre found it difficult to breathe, and moved further back. It was foolish, and she knew it, to be down here. Her generals had protested, her pilots had protested. Everybody had protested. However, she could not, she could never, leave Planet to burn.  
  
Let Santiago laugh! Let the Gaian faction be ridiculed, all that mattered was Planet.and its survival.  
  
Even now, she could sense the pain of the sentient consciousness. It pounded through her head, shrieking with the piercing strength of a thousand bells clashing all at once.  
  
we burn, earthdeirdre. Great pain we are in.  
  
Deirdre grunted as the telepathic link was forced, a clumsy hand grasping at her mind. She fell to the floor, and lay there as the words poured through her. Finally, when it had passed, she forced herself to stand.  
  
"Thanks Planet, tell me something I don't know."  
  
Diehl turned to her, his face covered in the soot and ash from the inferno.  
  
"Lady?"  
  
Deirdre sighed. "Nothing, Diehl. I was talking to myself."  
  
Zakharov walked towards Deirdre. "Lady, I must protest. The Council has given you command of this mission, and I cannot dispute that, but why are we out here, sacrificing lives, and resources, for an area of land which we do not need, or have any intention of using? I say let the fire burn itself out, and move on with the attack."  
  
Deirdre snapped. "How long do you think it will take for a fire of this size to burn itself out, Provost? By the time it has, it will reach the survivors in new Glasgow, ending any attempts at rebuilding. That is beside the point, however. No area of Planet is more important than another, just because humans live in one area. Planet is all special, and we only live here by grace of Planet."  
  
Zakharov nodded. "We risk far too much though, my lady. Already many of our men our lost in the blaze. What else can we do? It has been a dry spate of weather, and the xenofungus is going up like kindling. Look."  
  
Deirdre didn't want to look. Destruction had, recently, begun to look beautiful to her. That feeling inside her. Was it wrong? Was it a feeling that butchers like Santiago experienced? Part of Deirdre wanted to squash the feelings in an instant, but another part knew that was impossible. Taking a breath, she looked once again.  
  
It was beautiful, in an awe-inspiring and malevolent way. Lurid, orange flames rising into the sky. It was like a strange, artificial hell, unimagined by any algorithms within the workings of computers. No decision- making nodes could ever make enough calculations to produce such an awful blaze.  
  
The xenofungus must provide much more fuel that ordinary foliage, thought Deirdre. At least that was the only explanation she could find. Her eyes hurt from looking at the brightness, dazzling and shifting. Reds, oranges, even pinks and purples. It was real fire. She screamed. Why did she find this beautiful? It was war!  
  
"It is burning! It is not beautiful! Planet, pity me, I have fallen from the Creed!"  
  
Her words tore from her throat, and she fell to the floor once again, sobbing uncontrollably. Diehl looked at her, and fell to his knees beside her. His head came level with hers.  
  
"Lady, you must stand."  
  
Deirdre barely understood the words.  
  
"I- I- I have- I am not, worthy anymore. By Planet, Diehl. None of this should be beautiful, but why is it that I find it so? What is war doing to me! I am a pacifist! I am not meant to be out here! Is there no consistency anymore in this world?" She screamed at the top of her voice. "I just want peace, damn it! Why can't I just have fucking peace?"  
  
She fell into quiet weeping, and Diehl held her close to him.  
  
"You must not despair. Peace will follow, lady. It must do. Do not think overlong on this, war is a necessity at the moment, but soon, soon, I promise you, peace will come."  
  
Deirdre looked into his eyes. Suddenly, she felt dead. Cold. Empty.  
  
"Peace is dead, Diehl. War. Whenever war becomes the only option, peace is lost forever. Why did I let myself get dragged into this?"  
  
Diehl seemed almost angry. "Did our people die for nothing then, Deirdre? You belittle the sacrifice they made to keep the peace of Planet?"  
  
Deirdre was anguished. "I don't know, Diehl! Planet help me, I don't know. Why do we have to fight? We harmed no one, yet the people on this planet make the same mistakes as on Earth. War. It comes down to that all the time. Leaders ignored, and will forever ignore peace."  
  
Diehl shook his head. "No, lady. There are good people, and people who respect the need for peace."  
  
Deirdre screamed. "They are not enough! What are we, pebbles against a tide? Grass against the wind? We are pacifists, and when the mighty engines of war tramp towards us, we must bow, scrap, and flee. We have no place in war."  
  
Diehl cursed. "Stop it, lady. We have a place not only to keep the peace, but to protect Planet. This time, words have failed us. Santiago will never care for Planet, and now without the restraints of the Council, she can plunder the resources mercilessly. Call it vengeance, call it whatever you will, but I deem this simple protection of Planet. We are environmentalists as well as pacifists, lady. The two," he said with a slight grin. "Are quite different."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "I have been a fool, weeping and sobbing. Thank you, Commander. I am compose, and walk once more with Planet."  
  
Diehl bowed his head. "Planet will nurture her child."  
  
Deirdre smiled, and then looked once more at the fire. It was beautiful, her now clear thoughts agreed, but it is an evil beauty. A beauty generated by hatred, lust and vengeance. It is not the subtle beauty of the gardens, nor the wild, tempestuous beauty of Planet. It is the seductive beauty of temptation, a temptation to fall into war. Deirdre stood, and laughed, her heart suddenly light.  
  
Lady Deirdre of the Gaians had survived the temptations of the Devil, as Miriam would put it. Deirdre wouldn't put it that way. Now she knew that she walked with Planet, and that her soul was still hers.  
  
  
  
All day the army laboured, dousing the fire, dousing the fire, dousing the fire. It would have been boring, the intense continuity of the cycle, if it hadn't been for the gnawing doubt that the fire would ever be sated. The Gaians were committed to preventing this scar that cut into Planet from spreading, and their university allies were happy enough to help them.  
  
When Deirdre saw her aircraft dropping ice from the planes, then she knew true beauty. Cascading diamond sparkles, more like dust reflected both the clean light of the two suns, and the dirty, smoky glimmering of the fire.  
  
It was beauty, Deirdre thought, as the waters fell onto the fire, and it hissed. There was nothing better in the world. The hiss seemed to be a release of tension, a loud sigh from Planet itself. Or maybe even a murmur of thanks.  
  
Whatever the hiss meant, Deirdre smiled. The fire had been stopped, her forces were safe, and now they were ready to continue their campaign against Santiago. She no longer had any doubts. This was a necessary war. A war would end the pain to Planet. A war would ensure her factions survival. Searching for the word, she could have smiled. Miriam's faction offered surprising parallels between her own. This war was a righteous war, and Planet's vengeance would be swift, final, absolute, and complete. And nobody would evade it. Santiago was on her way to the grave. 


	11. Lost

For seven months, the Gaians laid siege to Bunker 118. It was an awful time. Deirdre spent most of it in the command centre erected three miles from the city, protected by the Guard. Zakharov and his aides were great helpers, as they thought about everything in roundabout ways, coming up with schemes layered over schemes. They were, at times, far too involved for Deirdre to do much but nod, smile, and grant her approval. The plans had sped up the siege process considerably though, and for that, Deirdre was thankful.  
  
Reports from the other faction leaders filtered in constantly.  
  
From Miriam: Defiance Freehold, Security Base, and Fleet Base have fallen.  
  
From Morgan: I have crushed her forces, and have occupied Admiralty Point, Spartan Harbour, and Nexus Hill.  
  
From Yang: I have liberated Yang Mine, and have seized Old Fort.  
  
From Lal: A secure perimeter has been established around Base 1, we expect it to fall within the week.  
  
Everyone, other than Deirdre and Zakharov were having great successes in their campaigns against Santiago. Deirdre's forces were holed up outside the walls of Bunker 118, in a static, unmoving conflict.  
  
Deirdre had the advantage of superior numbers, and a much better air force. Santiago had the advantage of a powerful navy, and a virtually unbreakable tachyon field. While Deirdre hoped that the tachyon field could be destroyed, she knew that it would be difficult. Her artillery glanced off the protective sheath, and only her air weapons could do any damage whatsoever to Santiago.  
  
Her other armies were having the same bad luck. One, led by Commander Diehl, had entrenched themselves around the mountain stronghold of Freehold Keep. The other, led by Admirals Hawke and Lisa, oversaw the siege of Sparta Command.  
  
"My lady, the daily assault is commencing."  
  
The vid-screen in her room flashed, and Bunker 118 loomed, an unmovable boulder in the midst of a roiling, green and white sea. It was an ugly base. Santiago preferred practicality and efficiency to beauty, whereas Deirdre always tried to combine the three. The lack of imagination in the Spartan bureaucracy had resulted in the orthodox, unoriginal shape for the Bunker. A box.  
  
It was a high, rocky box, standing firm against all the might of Planet. All other human agencies were united against these boxes, and yet they still stood, arrogant in the belief that they could hold off anything.  
  
Which they could, thought Deirdre. Seven months, and the tachyon fields were still active. She could do nothing until they had been shut down. And that, Santiago would never do. The fanatical Spartan leader had thermal boreholes built actually inside her base, providing enough energy to keep the city running for all time.  
  
Deirdre looked at one of her generals, a middle-aged man named Mathieu. He was of French descent, and he had the slightly darker skin of someone from the south. Good wines there, thought Deirdre absently, before shaking her head. Earth was gone. There was no France, no south, nothing. Now, there was only Planet.  
  
"Wait, Mathieu. I have a little surprise planned for the Spartans. When I give the word, then we must attack. Are the mindworms ready?"  
  
"Mindworms, my lady?"  
  
His voice was surprised, and quite wary. Mindworms would not work while the tachyon field was operational, as Deirdre had found out the first week, when her demon boils had been incinerated with ease.  
  
"Yes, Mathieu. Have their trainers ready to unleash them."  
  
He nodded, and a few crackled commands were exchanged. Deirdre breathed in deeply, in an attempt to calm her racing pulse. She was always nervous. It seemed that every day she would be biting her nails, using the sheer force of her will to keep her sanity in check.  
  
Twenty minutes passed, and the tachyon field remained the same. Finally though, and the second sun rose into the sky, lighting up the day, the tachyon shields glimmered, then winked out.  
  
Deirdre smiled exultantly.  
  
"Order the attack! All forces against the Spartans now!"  
  
Therefore, the Gaians and the University charged. At first, the Spartans laughed, thinking their tachyon field intact. One glance upwards robbed them of that belief. All the Gaian artillery, ineffectual just two minutes before, now fired as many shells as they could. The screaming was unbelievably loud as rockets released their gifts of death. Deirdre nodded grimly.  
  
Revenge was coming.  
  
The Spartans gave up the walls, falling into the streets. Then the mindworms fell upon them, eating away at their minds. The shrieks of the Spartan forces as the hunger of the worms was sated made Deirdre shudder. A horrific weapon, the mindworm, but one that her faction utilized well, and with no qualms.  
  
Planet had given her the worms, and she would use them to save Planet.  
  
Weakened by the shell fire, driven from the walls by Gaian warriors, and now being devoured by masses and masses of worms, the Spartan lines broke. The Gaians, like a breaking tide, rushed into the city.  
  
Flashes of laser fire filled the air, making it difficult to see. Dust from rubble, and smoke from fires made it as dark as night within the city. Thousands were dying, their blood seeping onto the hard streets, which remained uncaring, as rock always is.  
  
Deirdre sensed victory steaming through her blood, and now she knew why some people could love war. It was disturbingly exhilarating, seeing the death her people were dealing. It was enjoyable, watching her enemies die with agonized screams. Bloodlust rose within her, a strange, untameable monsters that gripped every cell of her brain.  
  
NO.  
  
A voice in her mind spoke out against this gripping desire.  
  
NO.  
  
It stated once again, unbelievably strong in its proportions.  
  
NO.  
  
Deirdre shook her head. The bloodlust vanished, and a tear fell from her eyes. She had been lost. She had, for a few minutes, lost the battle for her soul. Standing, she stared at the battle, now repulsed by the deaths. Never again would her soul become endangered. She would not allow it, could not allow it.  
  
By now, the Gaians were overwhelming the resistance in the city. The smoke was clearing, the dust settling. Now the true cost of the battle would be revealed. When it was, Deirdre choked, and fell to her knees, gasping for breath.  
  
Finally, she forced herself to look up at the screen. Tears streamed down her face. Babies lay on the floor, crying for parents that were never going to be coming back. Spartan babies, but babies nevertheless. Women crawled along the floor, screaming for their husbands and children. Everywhere, the horrific results of war could be seen. Deirdre felt her legs turning to water, and she sank into her chair. Her face had gone pale, and she felt cold.  
  
Zakharov entered the room, his face alive and joyous.  
  
"We have won, lady! Bunker 118 is ours!"  
  
Deirdre stared at him mutely.  
  
"Have we won, Zakharov?"  
  
He looked puzzled, and she spoke again.  
  
"I am a Gaian, and I have ordered my people to kill. Look at what I have wrought, Provost. Look. I am as bad as Santiago is, no better. I am cursed, and deserve to be reviled."  
  
Zakharov argued.  
  
"No, lady. Never that. What must be done to Santiago is necessity. It is just and-"  
  
She interrupted him. "Does that make it any less wrong? If I murder someone in self-defence, I have still murdered. I am lost."  
  
Zakharov shook his head. "You intend to give up?"  
  
Deirdre laughed coldly. "No, Zakharov. I can never give up. I have too much responsibility for my people. But I am lost, and within, I shall be as a rotten corpse. I am nothing any longer. Nothing!"  
  
Zakharov blinked. "Lady, can a rotten corpse make me love her?"  
  
Deirdre opened her eyes wide. She didn't believe what she was hearing. "Wh- What?"  
  
Zakharov smiled. "I love you, Deirdre. Not for what you do, but for what you are. You are not a rotten corpse. The fact that you feel for the victims shows you are different to Santiago. Much, much different."  
  
He leaned close to her, and kissed her. Deirdre responded. As she kissed him, she felt the love, and life of Planet rising within her, and she breathed in exultantly. She was not lost. No, never would she be lost. Not while she had Zakharov.  
  
"I love you, Zakharov."  
  
She kissed him again, and lost herself in the rising passion. 


	12. Dedication

"She was as true a Gaian as any can be. She was noble, forthright, and truthful. Everything she did was done according to the Creed. This was one woman who walked well with Planet. Because of her commitment to our faction, and her selfless sacrifice, I now dedicate this base to her memory. No longer shall Bunker 118 stand against us. My people, I give you: Lindly's Rest!"  
  
The Gaian people cheered, and Deirdre smiled. It made a fitting memorial to her friend. Hopefully, this base would stand for all time, and so would her sacrifice. Mathieu led her into the main command bunker, previously commanded by Santiago's distant cousin, Jerome. He of course, had been killed. By who, Deirdre could not say, but her warriors had obviously done the deed themselves, to keep their leaders hands and conscience clean.  
  
"That was a great speech, milady."  
  
The courteous, semi-questioning statement met Deirdre as she entered the main control room of the bunker. For three weeks, her forces had held Bunker 118, and only now had Deirdre entered the city, for her soldiers had been crushing the last resistance. Now her warriors rested, recuperating, and building their strength until they had to march on Sparta Command.  
  
Provost Zakharov, the source of the statement, fell in beside her. Although he smiled, Deirdre could tell that some tension remained behind her eyes. In the past couple of weeks, since the kiss, they had become far closer, and now Deirdre could tell something was wrong.  
  
"You have something to tell me, Provost?"  
  
The scientist nodded. "I must part with your company, Deirdre. My faction has their own targets, and, as much as I would like to stay here, I must oversee the completion of my mission."  
  
Deirdre nodded. "The Gaians will feel your absence most sorely, Provost. Perhaps we shall meet again in the next few weeks."  
  
Zakharov bowed. "I must away then, lady. My thanks, for opening my eyes to the world after all these years."  
  
Deirdre smiled. "Any time, Zakharov. Should you need me to.open your eyes once again, I shall be honoured."  
  
The Provost left, and Deirdre sat before the screen. Bunker 118 was in relatively good condition. Her forces had occupied the city too quickly for many buildings to be damaged. The bunker in which she sat was in almost perfect condition, and as such, could be used as a new command centre for her war against Santiago. Mathieu spoke quietly.  
  
"It will be much more difficult to break Santiago now that we have lost the University, my lady."  
  
Deirdre smiled. "We have taken Bunker 118, and that will shake her troops considerably. Next we can take Sparta Command."  
  
Mathieu shrugged, and murmured quietly. "And what of Freehold Keep? That will not fall for years, if then. The mountains provide a natural defence.how do you propose defeating the Freeholders?"  
  
Deirdre shrugged. "We will ponder that when we have to. Santiago cannot escape Sparta Command, and when she falls, so shall her faction. Who knows, perhaps Freehold Keep will surrender?"  
  
Mathieu shook his head. "I wouldn't count on it."  
  
A voice buzzed through the comm-link.  
  
"Lady, Hale has arrived. Shall I give him leave to enter?"  
  
Deirdre smiled, brushing back her dark hair. Her eyes were heavy with tiredness, but she blinked the sleepiness away in an instant. "Show him in."  
  
She would have to ask her aides for some xenofungus. The narcotic effects of the fungus would make her sleep much more easily, and perhaps even dispel the horrific nightmares she had been having lately.  
  
"Lady!"  
  
The commander entered the room. Commander Hale was a youthful man, seemingly too young for the responsibility of managing the Gaian shadow network. His hair was a deep russet, and his eyes, a regarding blue, stared at her coldly. He had been a loving Gaian once, but this war against Santiago had awakened a dispassionate, icy lack of emotion within him that had made him more like a digital construct than a living, human being. True, he lived by the Creed, but he no longer had the spirit of a Gaian. Deirdre would have felt guilty for plunging him into the war, but he was a valuable asset to the effort. His organisation of the shadow network was unsurpassed, and his in-depth knowledge of the undercurrents of power priceless.  
  
His successor had been captured in a compromised operation within Believing territory, and Miriam had not returned him to Deirdre after she had finished.playing with him. Because of his successor's death, Hale had come to power.  
  
"I see your mission went well, Commander. However, I expected you here much earlier. Three weeks earlier, to be precise. Where have you been?"  
  
Hale bowed low, and spoke. His voice was as crisp as his manner, clean, without any rough edges. Every syllable was pronounced carefully, with an exactness that spoke of a mathematical precision in everything he did.  
  
"I had to avoid a Spartan patrol as they were fighting. The power source of the tachyon field was actually thirty miles from this spot."  
  
Deirdre raised an eyebrow. "Santiago risked much. If my aircraft had hit the generator, she would have been helpless."  
  
Hale smiled. "The generator was a mile beneath the ground."  
  
Deirdre grinned. "A good job you found it then. By the way, how did you find it?"  
  
Hale tapped his chin carefully, as if composing the next thing he was going to say. Finally he spoke. "Information has a habit of leaking out, no matter what container it is held in, and energy credits seem to speed up the process. I remained in the bunker here for a while, finding out where the generator could be. I found out which patrols checked the generator, and then followed them, right to the generator."  
  
Deirdre smiled, shaking her head slightly in wonderment. "How you keep these details in your head, I will never know. In any case, I am thankful for your expertise. Without your help, we would still be waiting outside the walls."  
  
Hale nodded his head. "Anything for Planet, my lady."  
  
Deirdre paused for a moment. "I need you to do the same in Sparta Command as you did here. Every agent will be allocated to you. Use them well."  
  
Hale grinned sardonically. "You do not need to remind to use my agents well, my lady. Is that all?"  
  
Deirdre sighed, and gestured him away. Hale was extremely hard to understand, or even get along with. To a certain extent, Deirdre liked him. He was energetic and enthusiastic, but only about his agents. For anything else, he was empty of all thoughts. He would have done well in the University, for he saw everything as an equation of unparalleled complexity, which conflicted with Deirdre's views. To her, life was.well, life.  
  
Mathieu sat down. "A strange man, Hale."  
  
Deirdre tapped her fingers on the arms of her chair. "Yes, a very strange man. An enigma that must wait awhile for its solution, I think. Right now, we have more important things to attend to. Order all aircraft to target Sparta Command. Chaff grenades dropped within the city will disrupt their communications, and bombs.well, at least they can do some damage. What else? Ah yes, Admiral Hawke is to engage the Spartans anywhere he can on the sea. In three weeks, I want Admiralty Base occupied by my fleet."  
  
Mathieu raised an eyebrow. "That base has not been promised to us."  
  
Deirdre shrugged. "Do I care, Mathieu? No other faction has any need for it. My people will need it to protect the new trade routes between Gaia's Landing and Chiron City."  
  
Mathieu nodded firmly. "A fair analysis." Something in his tone was wary.  
  
"You do not agree, general?"  
  
Mathieu pondered for a moment. "It would anger the other factions considerably. They do not like wilful Gaians, I recall."  
  
Deirdre rolled her eyes. "My people have suffered the most in this war, and we have been offered the fewest number of bases as possible. If we do not take what is not offered, we will be constantly seen as pushovers."  
  
Mathieu opened his mouth again, but Deirdre rode over his argument. "Forgive me, Mat, but we have no time. In three weeks, I want Admiralty Base. If possible, strike at Fleet Command as well. That base will take longer to take, but it should fall around the same time as Sparta Command."  
  
The general still held arguments within his eyes, but he held them back, typing the orders into the data-file in his left hand.  
  
"Anything else, lady?"  
  
Deirdre nodded. "There is much. Supplies must be brought from the west, to support the war effort.oh, and order the fleet at Gaia's Landing to take Sea Bunker."  
  
Mathieu could not hold in the protests this time. "Miriam has claimed that base, lady."  
  
Deirdre regarded him levelly. "Santiago held that Bunker for years, keeping a dagger at the throat of my faction. That Bunker is within an hour striking distance of my capital. There is no way I will allow Miriam to hold the same stranglehold."  
  
Mathieu looked at the floor, almost sullenly. Deirdre held a hand to her forehead. "Mat. Miriam has been promised nine bases, nine! What have we been given? Three! I will not let her have Sea Bunker. Is that clear?"  
  
Mathieu glared. "The Senate may have something to say about this, lady. This is a democracy, after all."  
  
Deirdre stood, breathless with rage. "General, the Senate has given me their unconditional support in this war. I am leader of this faction, and during wartime, I am the commander of the armed forces."  
  
Mathieu snorted. "You are a woman. You have no idea how to conduct the political side of war, indeed, you have no idea how to conduct the war at all."  
  
Once, Deirdre would have sworn, or cursed. Now she just found amusement bubbling within her. She laughed, and when she saw the angered expression on the general's face, she laughed harder.  
  
"I am three hundred years old, Mathieu. For two hundred and seventy-six of those years, I have run this faction. Before that, I held a prominent position in the Green Party of Britain. I think I understand the undercurrents of politics, sir. By showing strength, yes, we do risk much, but if our faction sits by meekly and lets fools like Miriam take what is rightfully ours, how do we look?" She stood, and started for the door. "Oh, and general? Planet has outgrown the need for sexist opinions. When you have handed out the orders, speak to Handel. He will replace you as general. I have no need of short-sighted chauvinists in my employ."  
  
With a sweet, almost innocent smile, she left the bunker room, leaving a dumbfounded, angry Mathieu behind her. 


	13. Gaia's Landing

The sunset over Gaia's Landing was stupendous. The crystal domes, and light, willowy bronze towers reflected the slightly pink shades into the cloudy sky. Deirdre stood on the balcony of her tower, breathing in the delicate scents of roses and xenofungus. Light musical cries of tropical birds echoed through the sky, and she smiled. It was good to be back.  
  
Three years after the capture of Bunker 118, and the war was still continuing. The other factions had been stopped short by Santiago, and were now hard pushed to challenge any of her bases with enough force to matter.  
  
Sparta Command and Freehold Keep remained strong, and Hale had not been heard of for a year. His last report had been bleak, of agents compromised, and infiltration in her shadow network.  
  
Deirdre was fearful that Santiago, having forced a stalemate, would now begin to persuade other faction leaders to her ideals. Already, Yang had signed a Blood Truce, which left Santiago's north front clear of enemies.  
  
It was only here; at Gaia's Landing that she could get any peace. A huge city, Gaia's Landing occupied thirty miles of an island. Constant trading with Lal and Zakharov had allowed superior climatic replicates to be provided, and as such, the Centauri preserves now had an example of every type of climate on Earth.  
  
The North Pole; the Amazon; the Alps and even Scotland, with the deep glens and cool, misty valleys. Every country's beauty was represented in a dome, and to stride in that district, staring in wonder at every animal and plant, living within his or her artificial worlds- that was what made Deirdre feel joy.  
  
Another deep breath, and this time she turned to look at the slow movement of the river that flowed almost lazily through the centre of the island, and the centre of her city. The gentle, lulling gurgling of the river could soothe even the most troubled soul, for the music of nature was far more superior to anything a human could accomplish.  
  
Over the river, balconies supported by strengthened glass column leaned, and the people of the city could watch the city pass by, continuing in its eternal course. It was when she stood here; in the centre of her city that Deirdre knew the true glory of everything she strode for.  
  
The coppery coloured synthmetal towers of her city always made way for parks and groves. In every district, by the laws of Landing, it was required that a mile of parks be set aside. Not necessarily in one clump, and so it was the true, irregular beauty of her city was created.  
  
The nature in her city was not kept behind bars. The vines would splay out across the towers, and the sweet-scented lilac roses would trail upwards on every tower and building. Sections of wild tropical rainforest trailed through the most built up areas of the city. All the colour, all the scents, it was as if heaven itself had come to reside on Earth.  
  
Deirdre breathed out, and then turned away from her city, stepping quietly into her throne room. There, the disgruntled members of the Senate awaited her.  
  
  
  
"Lady Deirdre, this war has gone on long enough, we of the Senate have come to demand that you sign a peace treaty with Santiago, for the good of our faction. Furthermore, we have decreed that your emergency powers are removed, for you have bungled this war beyond recognition."  
  
Deirdre smiled sweetly. "So, the Senate wishes me to make peace with the enemy who destroyed New Glasgow. Have you all forgotten the horror of those weeks, when we were at the mercy of her power? If we sign a peace treaty, within a few years, she will have gained the power to threaten us once again. It is better to fight a war than to have a shattered peace a few years later."  
  
Senator Abdim nodded. "Your wisdom does you credit, my lady. However, it does not disguise the fact that for years we have been laying siege to the heart of Santiago's power, without success. At the very least we can call off the attacks, until we have recovered enough to launch another invasion."  
  
Deirdre raised her eyebrow. "You propose treachery then, Abdim?"  
  
Abdim smiled. "I propose nothing. These questions of government will be brought before the Senate now. No longer shall you be the sole leader of our faction."  
  
Deirdre let her face grow cold. "Senator. I am the founder of this faction, and I choose what direction it will take. The Senate is an advisory body which gives the people a method of government. You cannot strip me of my power."  
  
Abdim nodded. "I thought as much, and so I have prepared a document. Every member of the Senate has decreed that the responsibility of government be passed to us. The unanimous vote of the Senate cannot be questioned."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "How many Senator voted, Abdim?"  
  
Abdim grinned, content in his victory. "Thirty-three."  
  
Deirdre licked her lips. Damn his clever hide. The Senate number fifty men and women. Thirty-three or more were required to sit to pass a piece of legislation. Abdim has defeated her through a technicality. Shaking her head, she stood.  
  
"Then I bow to the wishes of the Senate."  
  
The throne room gave way to a gradual ripple of urgent whispers. General Diehl, recalled from Freehold Keep spoke out. "My lady, no! This cannot be. The army supports you fully."  
  
Deirdre answered. "I will not become a dictator, Diehl. The Senate has made their decision. Let them deal with the faction now. Believe me, Abdim, it is not as easy as it appears."  
  
Then she left.  
  
  
  
"He is a traitor, lady! He has been in the pay of Santiago since day one! You cannot allow this to happen. Speak out against it, and the people will support you."  
  
Deirdre knew Abdim was a traitor, but he was too powerful for her to remove. If she took direct action against a member of the Senate, the others would grow worried, perhaps even taking action against her.  
  
"I will wait, general. Eventually the Senate will see sense. They must."  
  
Diehl sighed. "I will order the units in the city to prepare for battle. If you give the word, lady, my men will move against the upstart Spartan lackey."  
  
Deirdre said. "Very well, but make no move against my orders. I do not want to escalate this into a full-blown war against the Senate. That, I will never condone."  
  
  
  
The days passed, and the Senate oversaw the responsibilities of government. A motion was proposed in the Senate for an end to the war. Deirdre was thankful that enough loyal Senators remained to block that motion.  
  
However, other pieces of legislation were allowed through, disguised as harmless precautions. Deirdre saw them for what they really were; invisible shackles ready to chain her people to the authority of Sparta.  
  
People rallied in the streets, protesting against her removal. At first Deirdre had been pleased. At least some people cared enough about her to demonstrate against it. Now, however, the protests were disrupting the running of the city, and the Senate were ordering reluctant police units to quell the protests.  
  
Deirdre looked at the newest protest with despair. The Gaians were meant to be a free people. Protests were a legitimate way of telling your leader you disapproved. Why were the Senate blundering so, to send police against them?  
  
Twice yesterday, she had almost given the order for Diehl to act against Abdim. Only the memory of New Glasgow stopped her. Abdim had men who were loyal to him as well, and there was no way that Deirdre would endanger the city of dreams in battle.  
  
  
  
More days passed, and the protests ended. The disgruntled Gaian populace returned to their homes. Deirdre remained away from her throne. Abdim was consolidating his power, bringing in more units from other cities.  
  
How had it come to this?  
  
Every day Diehl came to her, begging her to take action. Deirdre could not. If she acted, Gaia's Landing would become a hellish place. Anything was better than that, she convinced herself. Anything.  
  
She did place her warriors in key positions, however, and Abdim was as powerless to stop her as she was to stop him. Though for different reasons. She did not want to risk the city; Abdim did not want to risk his head.  
  
  
  
The weeks passed, and Deirdre grew more panicked. The city was silent, no longer full of the life it once contained. It seemed like a ghost city, empty and devoid of life. One evening, Deirdre looked out across the city, when she saw something moving in the distance, on the sea.  
  
Diehl soon came for her with terrible news. Somehow, a Spartan army had broken through the lines, and was steaming for Gaia's Landing. Now, Deirdre had to act. 


	14. Treachery

Disclaimer: Yeah, just realised I have forgotten to put one of these in. Don't want to be sued, or stopped, so here it is- I do not lay any sort of claim to Alpha Centari, or anything to do with it. No economic sanctions, I mean, economic gain, has been made from this piece. It is just enjoyment.  
  
Note: Well, here we are. I have done many, many chapters. Some of them rubbish, some of them (in my opinion) good. This is the bit where my story turns, away from the 'local' war with the Spartans, into more global issues, with Council interaction, political strife and intrigue, assassinations, riots, revolutions, and pure, unadulterated anarchy. It should be fun though. How will Deirdre, a peace-loving Democrat, as Santiago calls her, fend of trouble within her factions? How can she keep to her ideals as her faction crumbles around her? Can she trust anyone? What will happen to Gaia's Landing? Will Planet be destroyed? Well.have fun.  
  
Second Note: Be prepared for a sequel. This story is just to prepare for the sequel, which is where my own ideas and science fiction come in. In the sequels, humans from Earth arrive in Alpha Centauri, and they expect the Council to give them equal authority. A story of the OLD vs. the NEW. Well, that'll not be for a long while, but I though I had better warn you, so you have chance to run away before I submit. Anyway, here is the actual chapter. Any suggestions for improvement, any possible ideas you have, and any subplots you want me to put in? Any home baked characters you want me to add? Like a University scientist you have had in one of your stories, or anything like that. This is a spectator story, to some extent, at least. (Any outrageous suggestions will not be considered) (I decide what is outrageous) (No, it is not a democracy) (Yes, I am Yang) (No, I'm not a hippy) (Yes I am against WAR) Oh! That leads me to my second- no, third point.  
  
DO NOT ATTACK IRAQ! This is as much a story of human nature as it is of AC. I ask you to stop the war against Iraq, and to end the foolish boy attitude towards war. War is BAD BAD BAD, and it should not be allowed, unless there is solid, incontrovertible evidence of Saddam having chemical weapons, and probably not even then. If this loses me readers, then tough, but please, take a stance on this matter. Now, all this boring stuff out of the way, and into the story.sorry it took me so long. I do have 14 chapters of OOC comments to make up, don't I?  
  
  
  
The streets of Gaia's Landing had erupted into chaos. Rioters flung themselves at security forces, screaming with terror. Somehow, news of the approaching Spartan army had reached them, and now nothing could contain them.  
  
They trashed buildings and burned trees. It was as if some dark power had possessed the populace, driving them to commit terrible acts. Deirdre watched as small portions of her city burned. People were there, fighting the fires, so it would not cause much damage. However, it was the fact that people would actually burn the gardens and groves that made Deirdre pale with fright.  
  
Abdim had made a mess of governing. He had taken away the freedom of the people, which Deirdre had stood down to preserve. Fermenting discord and anarchy had been all he was good for. It was up to Deirdre now to take action. She had two hours. Two hours in which to achieve the near-impossible. Abdim must be overthrown, his forces disarmed, unless they were ready to serve her. Then the walls must be manned, and then somehow, the Spartans must be driven away. Deirdre muttered under her breath, angry at how over-confident she had been. Of course the Spartans were not fools. They would launch an attack against Gaia's Landing, the second they heard of a change in government. Change always meant weakness, at least until the people were used to it.  
  
Walking through the mass hysteria and rioting, Deirdre felt a strange sort of detachment. She could still sense the terrible anxiety, the worry that her city might fall under the Spartan menace. Diehl walked with her, he and thirty other guards forming a wall of muscle against the rioters.  
  
The sound was unbelievable. It was as if the souls of every Gaian present were screaming through their throats. Abdim, in his foolishness, had obviously deemed the populace of little threat, for only three detachments of his warriors had been sent into the streets, and they had been swiftly, and utterly annihilated.  
  
The crowds were shrieking the name of their leader, shouting for Deirdre. She felt her heart go heavy. They were not peaceful. Years of war had changed that. Years of fighting, of suffering under other leader's disregard for them had changed her people. Now, they were warlike. Their ideals, everything they had once held dear, were gone, evaporated like morning mist.  
  
Deirdre hardened her heart. She could not cry. She must not cry! The war had done this, only the war! Once Santiago had been beaten, things could go back to how they were before.  
  
A cynical burst of laughter escaped her lips. Who was she kidding? Everything back to how it was? What, was she somebody from Earth? A young girl believing adamantly that her views would be listened to? Was she that naïve? Could she really believe that her people, having had a taste of power, would give that up readily? Would they once again take their place in the mud, bowing down to greater factions?  
  
No. Even Deirdre would not do that. Never, had been the promise in New Glasgow, never to bow, never to scrape, never to be humiliated, and never to be beaten! The pacifist's would become victorious, they had all said, but only now was Deirdre realising the true price of that statement. When was it that they would cease to be pacifists? Was it possible to be a pacifist anymore, when war was so easy, and so consuming?  
  
All these questions floated around the head of Deirdre, sniping at her, worming away into the solid wall of bravado she had erected. Long ago, she had convinced herself that she must never show weakness. She would be a strong leader, a leader that her people could look up to and revere.  
  
Yet they didn't. For all this show of loyalty, for all these people yelling her name, praising her, and cursing Abdim, she knew the truth. Had she been making the mistakes of Abdim, they would be cheering him. In fact, she had been so unpopular by being seen as the cause of the war, that it had taken a bungling hand such as that of Abdim on the reins to turn them back to her.  
  
The riots grew more intense, and suddenly Diehl stared directing the men into a side alley. Deirdre raised an eyebrow, but he just shook his head. Now was not the time for discussions.  
  
Deirdre moved with them, and soon they had moved out of the riots. It was disconcerting, to be plunged into cool darkness of an alley, and to hear the screaming as only a distant sound instead of the pounding maelstrom always around her head.  
  
"Lady, since Abdim seized power, I have taken the liberty to prepare a strike force. Three hundred men are bunkered within the chambers underneath this alley. Within then minutes, we can be ready to strike at the man himself. If we move quickly enough, we can punch into the palace, and take him as he sits in your throne room. Without him, the guards will willingly serve you, and we can quickly move to turn against the Spartans."  
  
Deirdre felt a sudden sheet of indecision rush through her. Could she order it? Could she allow her soldiers to remove an innocent man from power, the only crime being his ambition and stupidity? Watching her hesitate, Diehl sighed.  
  
"It is him, or Gaia's Landing, my lady. You must choose. I know what you feel; you wish you had never gone to war. You have seen the way our people are acting, and you despise yourself. Nevertheless, we will pull through, we always have. We will weather this storm of violence, and wake again to a new spring, a new peace. This I can promise, and let Planet steal my life if I lie."  
  
Deirdre nodded. "Very well. Let the attack commence. I will move in with you. I must be ready to take personal command immediately. I also need any spare forces to round up the members of the Senate. Hold them in custody. Say it is for their protection, or something. We cannot have them running around and muddying the waters. I must have an hour of absolute control before the Spartans get here, or this city is lost. I will atone for my actions after, but I now act for the salvation of Gaia."  
  
Diehl looked at Deirdre. She knew that the tearing guilt, and rising indecision must be evident. She must look more the foolish girl than ever before. Breathing out, she waited. A door opened, and it took her a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.  
  
  
  
In ten minutes, they were moving through a vast network of dark tunnels, Deirdre behind thirty troops, but in front of three hundred. They were all alert, bearing weapons of the finest technology. Her last chance to save the city rested with these soldiers, and both they, and she, knew it.  
  
They walked on and on, in almost absolute darkness. Deirdre closed her eyes, and prayed. She prayed to God, and Planet. She would need both to succeed, she felt.  
  
  
  
Diehl stopped, and said. "This is it. The door. First Detachment, when you get through the door, takes out anything that moves. Second Detachment; secure the entrances to the palace. Third, stand ready in support. Fourth, you shall come with the Lady and I to the throne room."  
  
A resounding chorus, whispers of affirmation, made Deirdre bow her head in shame. She felt torn. She was asking these men and women to give their lives to put her back in power.  
  
No, a voice murmured in her head. They fight of their own accord, and they fight for Gaia. They fight for freedom, and they fight for peace. Fighting for peace is the only way to keep it. Deirdre shuddered, and then spoke quietly.  
  
"Good luck. May Planet go with you, and guide you into her bosom."  
  
Silence.  
  
Diehl then shouted loudly. "Go! First Company, through the door, now!"  
  
A flash of an explosion from outside illuminated the tunnel, and Deirdre frowned. She had not known there were windows in the tunnel. The way Diehl was reacting neither had he. As the First Detachment moved through, blasting into the palace halls, Deirdre felt a prickling sense of danger.  
  
"Commander, where is the light coming fro-"  
  
She paused, her mouth open. The way they had just come, patrols of Spartans had arrived. Deirdre had time enough to curse, before laser shots filled the tunnels. Diehl dragged her to the floor, in order to avoid the shots. Third Detachment moved to intercept the Spartans, and Diehl roared.  
  
"Continue with the plan! Third can hold them off, we must take the throne room. Move! Move! Move!"  
  
Seemingly unconcerned by the firing shots, the Gaian soldiers rushed into the palace. Deirdre followed them. Diehl pulled her with him, almost viciously. She gasped as a laser shot struck her on the shoulder. Diehl looked up. From overhanging balconies of the upper floor, Spartan warriors were shooting, laughing as they did so.  
  
Diehl swore. "The bastards have taken the palace!"  
  
Deirdre looked around, and when she saw Gaian fighting Gaian, even when Spartans were abroad, she paled with anger.  
  
"I did not know his treachery went this far! Diehl. Pull all detachments back. If we take the throne room, we can at least summon aid from the other factions. Abdim must have made a deal with Santiago, the bastard!"  
  
All around them, Gaians died, as the Spartans began to take the palace.  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, Deirdre stood outside the throne room. It was quiet here, for they had broken through the lines, and had passed any resistance. Now seventy of her soldiers waited for her word to blast open the doors of the throne room, where they would find Abdim, in his treacherous power.  
  
Diehl still stood with her, his eyes grim. The treachery had hit him harder than she. That not only Abdim, but Gaians as well considered siding with the enemy had left him dumbfounded.  
  
With a gesture towards the door, Deirdre gave the order for the attack to begin. Her future, and that of her faction, was now in the balance. It was for her to decide.  
  
When the doors blasted open, Deirdre was surprised at the amount of smoke. After it had cleared, her mouth dropped open. Santiago sat on her throne, smiling evilly.  
  
Note: Sorry about how this chapter is short, and boring. I am exhausted, and have just got in from school, and so it is the worst time to have an inspiration kick. Nevertheless, here is the next chapter. Don't be TOO critical, please. I can't take it. 


	15. Were you there?

Note: Well, this is the chapter when the Spartan conflict is resolved. Sorry about what happens. It was going to happen later on, but I felt Deirdre was overdue for a nervous breakdown, and I am feeling cruel today. Well, tell me what you think.  
  
  
  
Santiago sat on her throne.  
  
The thought struck through the chaotic whirlpool of panic and anger that had seized her mind. How could she have been so blind? Abdim wasn't incompetent he was a Spartan traitor! The obvious weeks Santiago had spent in her palace made her growl within her. All Gaian emblems had been taken from the walls, and now the Spartan insignia had been nailed to the floor.  
  
"Greetings, my lady Deirdre. Nice of you to finally join me. Abdim and I have waited for weeks for you to pay your regards. Now, shall we do this the hard way, or the easy way? I quite like the hard way. You escaped my pleasure before; you shall not do so again. When I have finished you, I will not destroy your faction. No, Deirdre. I shall corrupt it. I know how that will make you writhe in torment, to see you beloved pacifists screaming for blood with as much lust as my council. That would be a great day. Punishment spheres constructed within Gaia's Landing, thermal boreholes outside in the xenofungus plains, and the foolish strand of white oak used for a trophy in Sparta Command. I could go on for hours about your faction, Deirdre, and how I will ruin it!"  
  
Deirdre whitened. The people behind her could not shoot the Spartan leader down, for just as surely as her troops kept guns locked on Santiago, so too did the Spartans have guns locked on Deirdre.  
  
"Why do you hate us so, Santiago?"  
  
Santiago laughed. "What is this, no pleasant little quip from the Gaian? No last minute heroics from the Council?"  
  
Deirdre bowed her head. "I am defeated, Santiago. What more is there for me to say? My ideals, everything is gone. Tomorrow, it will all be ashes."  
  
Santiago laughed louder, now shaking with joviality. "What," she said when Deirdre glared at her. "Did you expect me to feel sorry for you? Yes, you are defeated. And it is through your mistakes that have allowed me my final victory."  
  
A wave of sorrow met her. Deirdre knew the Spartan was right. She had precipitated defeat. She had been stubborn enough to carry the fight to the Spartans. By Planet, a negotiated peace would have been possible, and war would never have mutated her faction almost beyond recognition. Santiago claimed to want to corrupt her faction, but Deirdre knew there was nothing that beast could do to it, that Deirdre had not already done. By her own hands, her faction was dust.  
  
"Santiago. At least grant me this last request, please. For all the honour you claim to have. Why my faction? What have we done to you, what were we ever going to do?" Santiago stood, her eyes blazing. "You do not know, whore? You stand there, supreme in your intelligence, snubbing me with your airs, and you profess to have no idea whatsoever?"  
  
Deirdre opened her mouth, but Santiago roared. "It was back on Earth, you bitch! On Earth. You and your kind, you weak-willed politicians, you bumbling pacifists. You lacked the discipline to save my mother! My family! My friends! Killed out of violence, bred by mistakes made by your kind, by the high-handed, idealistic methods that the government used."  
  
Deirdre felt a sudden surge of pity. Santiago was mad. It had been cunningly disguised of course, behind discipline and a sure method to everything she did, but with those words, Deirdre knew there would never be any reasoning with the woman. She was mad. Pure madness had allowed her to grow this bitter.  
  
"Santiago, I assure you. Nothing democrats or greens did could ever have killed your parents. This I sw-"  
  
Santiago screamed. "No! You do not swear! Where you there? Where you there! Did you see her as she was raped, as she died, as her throat was cut! Did you see my father, peaceful as ever, restrained by the law not to defend himself! No! No! No! You did not, you could never have experienced what I have! It was your laws, your rules! Democracy! Democracy and pacifism have done this!"  
  
Deirdre choked back a sob. Santiago had watched, only a young girl, and had been forced to watch as her mother was raped and murdered? Deirdre blinked back a tear. All the hatred she had ever felt towards this woman had gone. The fates had been cruel to her, to turn what was a clever woman into a snarling, almost rabid wreck. By Planet, Deirdre could have turned out like that. Dim memories, of her parents' divorce, of the uncaring, almost callous nature of her father in Scotland. How he had pushed her into being academic, how he had forced her into a university she hated, how he had sent her mother away sobbing when Deirdre, then aged twenty-one had invited her to her birthday gathering.  
  
The degree in xenobiology had been an attempt to get back at her father, an attempt to state that she was independent. Because of the isolation she had suffered, she could sympathise with Santiago, who now stood, tears streaming down a face that had seemed so distant, a face that inspired hatred and disgust.  
  
"Planet keeps you, Santiago. I am sorry for you."  
  
What could have been a grateful look sparked dimly, but then it was buried behind vehemence and a raging tempest. Quick enough to be disturbing, the face of Santiago lost all emotion, becoming cold and hard once again, devoid of emotion, or even the barest flickering of life.  
  
"I shall enjoy watching you beg for mercy, Deirdre. I shall have fun with your city and its people, and then I shall keep this base as a reminder. War City, I think I shall rename it, so that you may know that for all eternity, all of Planet will remember the defeat of pacifism as it should always have been. War is reality, Deirdre. War is life."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. Somehow she found the voice to speak. "No, Santiago. War is death. Peace is life. The people that live for war are doomed to die. Peace is hope, and hope.hope is what makes us human. Without hope, peace, love.whatever you call them, there is nothing. What are we, machines? You feel emotion, just as I. I have seen it. Gods, without emotion, you would not be seeking vengeance."  
  
Santiago shook her head. "Your prattle goes nowhere. In fact, your argument loses strength as you go along. What has vengeance to do with peace, Gaian?" She waved her hand. "No, do not speak. I grow bored. In fact, spending a long time over your torture does not hold the relish it once did. You'd probably talk to me as I administered to you my arts. It is time for you to die, Deirdre."  
  
  
  
Gaia's Landing. The Spartan forces had arrived from outside, and now the city lay under the iron fist of Santiago. All throughout the city, the Gaians still refused to surrender. They remembered the price of New Glasgow, and they refused to let the Spartans win.  
  
Santiago had seized control of the walls, and now endless numbers of her troops were entering the city. Millions and millions of them. Deirdre wept. She had believed Santiago weakened, but now she watched as the full might of Sparta claimed her oldest city, without much of a struggle.  
  
She stood now, surrounded by Spartans, on the podium in the centre of the city, normally resolved for meetings of the Senate. The people of Gaia's Landing had been forced at gunpoint to the Oval, where they were expected to watch their leader burn. Santiago had decreed that Deirdre's death would mark the end of her faction, and so oil had been strewn all over the white strand of oak, that ancient tree from old Scotland, a memory of earth, of their mistakes. It had meant to horrify Deirdre, but in reality, she was grateful. If the tree was burned, Deirdre would prefer to burn with it, than to live. It had been said that the Tree was the soul of Gaia, that if it burned, or fell, so too would the Gaian Faction.  
  
"People of Gaia's Landing. Today, you are a defeated people. Behold, I hold your city, your leader, and your tree!"  
  
The voice she spoke in belied the scorn in which she held the gathered people, and as she spoke, her upper lip curled in disgust. Rough Spartan soldiers grabbed Deirdre by the arms, dragging her towards the tree, where she was crudely tied with leather straps studded with pins that dug into her wrists. Seized by a strange feeling, Deirdre laughed, she was tied to a tree by her wrists. By Planet, she would be dying almost like Miriam's God. Long forgotten memories returned to her, of sitting in a church, a Methodist Church, singing a hymn which made her eyes water with pity. Were you there, the song rang, when they crucified the Lord?  
  
Every man, woman and child of Gaia's Landing would be able to say yes, if they were asked that question of today. Were you there, when Deirdre died? Were you there when her blood ran onto the whiteness of the tree? Were you there when everything she had hoped to achieve fragmented and shattered into tiny shards of what it had once been? Were you there to witness the defeat of peace, the ending of life, the failing of Planet?  
  
Yes.  
  
Were you there when the Gaians were forced to spit at their leader, to laugh, and mock their Tree? Were you there when grove after grove was set alight? Were you there when the copper towers of the city fell?  
  
Yes.  
  
Were you there when the guns finally fell quiet, the only sound the hopeless, broken sobbing of a once proud ruler? Were you there when Diehl was beheaded, and his head flung into the river Theins, along with the heads of every Gaian bearing arms? Were you there when the river ran red?  
  
Yes.  
  
Yes.  
  
Yes.  
  
Deirdre closed her eyes. It had finished. The scent of smoke was in the air. Gaia was burning. Planet and its loud, clumsy voice screamed in her ears, pounding through her head. A young child, bawling for its mother, craving comfort.  
  
earthdeirdre. you suffer. great city burns, great pain we feel.  
  
Deirdre could not answer. Oil now leaked into her river, and in turn leaked into the sea, hideous black blood, blood that bespoke an ending, and ending of sorts. At least, it was an ending of conservation, a doom that had been placed on Planet.  
  
Burning.  
  
Trees, groves, bridges, towers. Metal and wood and stone. People screaming with fear, tears drying almost before they leave their eyes. The entire city was burning now, everything burning.  
  
Deirdre fell to her knees, and shrieked as the pins dug deeper. Her blood ran hot and sticky over her hands, and she thrashed as she suffered. Santiago was laughing crazily, stabbing Deirdre into the shoulders and in the knees. Blood ran everywhere, and the Gaian leader felt her strength ebbing away, ebbing like the tides of Planet.  
  
Her senses became dimmer, and she felt a distant calling. Memories flooded back. Memories of cold waves crashing upon the rocky shores of Scotland, of the humid yet beautiful tropical rainforest. Of the beauty of Earth that was lost forever to her.  
  
Yet more memories struck her, and now Planet entered her memories, a beautiful place, an alien landscape, of pink xenofungus, almost green seas, and two suns. Two gleaming orange jewels in a turquoise sky. Such majesty, such unparalleled glory, and it was going to be cruelly discarded, cast aside by the uncaring attitude of Sparta.  
  
Screams and gunshots.  
  
Gunshots? Where were they coming from?  
  
"The Council comes, the Council comes, and we are saved!"  
  
Ah, a memory. New Glasgow was a ruin now. Gaia's Landing dying. Gaia was gone. Planet was doomed. Deirdre closed her eyes, and allowed the peaceful, comforting blackness rushed in. One thought rang through her head. Death was peace.  
  
  
  
Note: Well.now I have depressed myself. I shouldn't have done it, should I? Gaia's Landing.now I am going to cry. After all the effort in creating it, and making nice descriptions of it, it is finally gone. Join with me, and cry, for Gaia's Landing had been lost. Well, yeah, I'm sad, but it is the most beautiful city in the world, and I think even Santiago feels sorry for the city. Well, maybe not. Anyway, let me know what you think. Thanks for your support, Feye. And for yours, Johnny. (if I have gotten the name wrong, sorry) No, its not over yet. Lots more stuff left to go. Deirdre finally grows up in the next chapter. 


	16. Memories

Note: You will have to bear with me with this chapter. I have a lot to say, and so it may come across a bit wonky. Oh, and in the previous chapter (poor Landing) I made a mistake. It is not a white oak. It is a white pine. For the sake of my sanity, I am turning the pine into an oak, and that is final, so mmmeeerrrrr! *pulls a tongue*  
  
Enjoy!  
  
  
  
"Deirdre Skye, for achieving a Bachelor of Science in Agriculture and Environmental Biology; a Masters in Biology, and Ph.D. Biology and Genetics. A little about Deirdre, ladies and gentlemen. She is the daughter of Harold Skye, distinguished security consultant, whom I am sure you have all heard of. It is the honour of Cornell University to present Deirdre with her degrees, and to wish her well in her chosen career, which," the speaker said slowly, scrolling down the list. "Is to aid the biological researchers in Bionex Research Lab, White Plains, New York. Deirdre will be a sorely missed student here in Cornell, and our heart goes out to her."  
  
Deirdre stands. She is a twenty-six year old woman now, and her heart is thudding with excitement, and her face betrays the fact that she is nervous. In the crowd, she can make out her mother, unobtrusive in her simple grey dress. Deirdre's father is nowhere, and the young woman breathes a sigh of relief. No yelling, no accusations, no scalding remarks.  
  
Deirdre knows her father hates her. He has hated her since her mother and he divorced, and since his daughter took on a role as a peaceful young girl, instead of a woman who embraces war as a necessity, as he does in his missions for the security forces. Smiling, she accepts the scroll, and wonders on the traditions of universities, still intact from the fifteen hundreds, back when the only two universities in England were Cambridge and Oxford.  
  
Still smiling, Deirdre steps off the podium, down the steps, and into her new life. The sun is strangely bright today, and she smiles at its prettiness as it touches the plants and as it begins to set off the bright yellow and red roses.  
  
  
  
She groaned. Pain. Pain. Pain. Hot, fiery agony that ripped through her entire body. She found it difficult to breathe, and she blinked back tears. Screams escaped her lips, as she fought against the darkness. It was no use it claimed her once again.  
  
  
  
The Bionex laboratory Deirdre stands in is uniform to say the least. White walls, white floors, white ceilings. It is supposed to focus the minds of researchers. She knows that. However, surely a spot of colour could provide some relief from the work? Surely a healthy plant could be placed within the white confines?  
  
She shrugs. It is only a small complaint. The time she has spent in Bionex Labs seems like heaven. Away from the oppressive regime of her father, away from the pressures of university exams and tests. It is a simple institute, designed for the garnering of knowledge. Deirdre loves it. Now aged thirty, she is a prominent researcher in the facility, yet despite the acclaim she has won, she wants to keep herself to herself.  
  
These microbes she studies through the concentrated lens of a microscope are a complicated set of organisms. They multiply, then decrease, multiply then decreases.  
  
A new kind of life, she thinks to herself, created by the team. A living animal cell, that holds many plant characteristics. The faint blotches of the chloroplasts can be seen, as can the crossover between the cell wall and membrane. Magnificent, the way it leans towards the light, without even knowing it.  
  
Pulling her eyes away from the microscope, Deirdre leaves the white room, and steps out into a large cloister, into another strangely bright day.  
  
  
  
Again, the pain woke her from the darkness, and this time she could make out faint shapes moving. A pressure was forced against her chest, and she coughed, groaning as excruciating pain lances through her spine.  
  
"-an she live?"  
  
The answer is lost in pain, as the darkness pours over her in overwhelming tides.  
  
  
  
The city is a wreck. New Chicago, established in South America, is now suffering from terrible radiation, and that much can be seen from where she stands. Despite being protected by the highest level of technology available, Deirdre is wary of walking anywhere near the highest concentrations of radiation.  
  
She does not have to stay here long. Just enough time to supervise the release of her strain of wheat into the area. Within a few decades, the specialised strain would clean this area of radiation, allowing the re- colonization of the city.  
  
Deirdre bows her head, and whispers a prayer to the God, and wonders how her mother fares now, resting in the arms of the Lord. Slowly, once the strains have been released, Deirdre enters the chopper, and ascends into the sky.  
  
The sky is bright.  
  
  
  
"-hat is going on?"  
  
The pain was unbearable. Scalding tears rushed down her face, and she whimpered. How could she stand the pain? Every time she moved, it felt that her bones were jarring. She tried to move her hands to smooth her face, to worry at the source of the largest pain. Her hands have been tied down.  
  
Shrieking with agony, Deirdre collapses again, into cool oblivion.  
  
  
  
The Unity is flying in the dark, timeless void between the two planets. The glimmering stars never cease to amaze Deirdre. An ebony sheet, studded with glowing diamonds, a priceless wonder, space.  
  
Behind the ship, through the hardened diamond windows, Deirdre observes the blue and green jewel of Earth receding behind them. It is gone forever, now. The cool mists of morning, the rosy sunsets, the waves crashing against the cliffs of Scotland. The graceful rolling hills of the Cotswolds, the unmatched awe of the Lake District. Earth in its diversity is incredible, an unmatched organism, a living, breathing planet of unlimited scope. Yet we have still managed to ruin it. Allowed it to die, suffering from fire and radiation, suffering from poison and war.  
  
Deirdre turns to face the sun. It is stupendous in its glory, brilliant and white, a writhing ball of gas, providing light for Earth, providing life that is soon to be extinguished. The light fills the bridge, and Deirdre hums a quiet song.  
  
  
  
"Mother!"  
  
Why did she scream that? Her mother had been dead for centuries now, a product of ancient memories of Earth, useless memories now. Everything was useless now. Deirdre could not remember why, but she knew that something was making her feel worse than unhappy. She had never felt this way, even on the worst encounters with her father. Breathing in, the pain made her gasp.  
  
It was no longer as bad as it had been, but it was enough to worry her. Still she could not see, though. Nothing but brilliant light, and dim, indistinct moving figures. "-e shouldn't even keep her alive. Not like this. Her face, its-"  
  
Darkness prevents her from hearing the completion of the sentence.  
  
  
  
Now the memories flash rapidly, faster than the computation of a calculator, faster the warp-drive she had seen mentioned on so many Star- Trek films, films her grandfather had fed her, the young child feeding on them avidly.  
  
All the images told her something about herself. The journey on the Unity, the first years after Planetfall; the First Council; the War of Affirmation; the Seven Nevus Revolutions; the Datalink Wars; all the memories of communiqués with faction leaders, her emotion driving her into tears.  
  
Nobody listened to her views, ever. She was the youngest, the most naïve, certainly the easiest to pressure, and bully. Over the years, her ideals were shrugged off, as exactly that. Ideals. Indistinct, unrealistic ideals. A young woman's vain hope for peace, and for the survival of a youthful Planet.  
  
Finally, the memories reached the showdown in the throne room, and then Deirdre screamed with horror once again, as Gaia's Landing burned. Those copper spires were never again going to testify to Planet.  
  
Her cause was dead. Ashes dying on a fire, mist evaporating in the warm sun. Still sobbing, Deirdre awoke, into a living hell of pain and torment.  
  
  
  
Hideous.  
  
That was the first thought that struck her when she looked in the mirror. Tears sprang into her eyes. A once-beautiful woman now stared back at her, an alien hag. It wasn't her. Not this scarred and charred remnant, not this dried up lump of skin. By Planet, why? Was she destined to lose everything dear to her?  
  
Could fate really be that set against peace?  
  
Her face.  
  
One half of it was a scarlet mass of scars, red-hot burns, and any other mar imaginable. The other half, where, her medical staff said, she had fallen into water was still normal, but what use was that?  
  
Her beauty was gone. Gaia's Landing was gone.  
  
She would have liked to say the second hurt her more. Damnit! What was she, an adolescent teenager more concerned about her face than her people? Try as she might, she could not get it out of her head. Three days ago, when she had awoken, and they had shown her the remnants of her face, she had wanted to die.  
  
She still wanted to die, but somehow, she had been banned from the peace of death, and had been refused, sent back into the conflicts and turmoil of life, of Planet, and of a dying faction.  
  
The Council had come once again to her aid.  
  
Once again, they had come too late.  
  
The First Paradise lay in ruins. The two centres of her factions beliefs lay in ashes. New Glasgow was years gone, true, and the repair work had not captured the old imagery of the city. It was a pale shadow. She had told herself, looking at the new New Glasgow, that it didn't matter, that she still had the Landing.  
  
Shattered dreams.  
  
Landing was gone. New Glasgow was gone. Earth was gone.  
  
Why could she not have died?  
  
  
  
The ruins of Gaia's Landing were silent. No cheers came from Gaian lips, at the news that Santiago had been executed. No cheers came from anyone, when news came that Sparta Command and Freehold Keep had fallen. They had triumphed, but at an inexcusable cost. It remained to be seen whether Gaia could recover from her loss, or whether she would fade away, a lost memory, an intangible dream.  
  
Throughout the days she remained in Landing, Deirdre prayed for death. 


	17. New Spring

Sorry about this chapter it is an ending to the first half of my story, and just sums up what has happened, etc. Things are still confused, for everyone, so any doubts you may have are (hopefully) deliberate. Nevertheless, still feel free to ask me. If you aren't meant to know, I won't tell you. If you are, I will try to as quickly as I can.  
  
  
  
The evacuation of Gaia's Landing was very subdued, a quiet gathering of all surviving Gaian citizens, who were then boarded onto shuttles the Council of Planet had provided. The City was a black scar upon the land now, an empty, charred wasteland that seemed to fester within the minds of every Gaian, reminding them of their failure and loss. It seemed prudent to leave Landing, to leave the loss behind, to lock the memory away in some unpleasant Datalink somewhere, so that life, as many people put it, could go on. The joys and beauty of the city would be remembered, but the ruins they had become would be locked away.  
  
Deirdre sat in her command shuttle, the physical pain of her torture now only a dim throbbing. Of course, the mental horrors of her suffering would probably remain vivid in her mind for eternity. Her hideously disfigured half of her face was hidden by a green synthmetal mask, the slanted diagonally across her face. AS much as she had protested, the masked face had become the new symbol of the Gaian faction. The rose had been stripped away, for it had failed to save them. Instead a silent testament to their leader served as their banner, as their rallying point.  
  
Lady Deirdre of the Gaians, Saviour and Deliverer, Protector and Guardian. The Mistress of the re-named Garden of Sparta, Lindly's Rest and Pacifist's Defiance. All these titles that heralded her greatness, thought Deirdre, and not one of them meant anything anymore. Whenever she felt like she was regaining her hope, that evil sentence trailed across her thoughts: Landing is gone.  
  
She shuddered, and as she did, the shuttle began to shake. It was time for her to leave the First Base, to leave the point at which she had come onto Planet, the point at which a new life of hers had begun, when she had rejected the nihilism of Earth, in return for the fulfilment and joy of Planet.  
  
She gave a cynical laugh. Nothing ever went to plan, did it?  
  
Her faction was leaving their cities, every city was going to be dismantled, and taken to New Island, so aptly named by Deirdre and the colonists. A new beginning would be made on the island, a beginning of a new Gaian policy.  
  
The minority of the Senate had created four new guidelines. All other Senators had been executed as Spartan traitors, as Harbingers of Landing's End, as the event had begun to be called.  
  
Four points from which a new society for the Gaians would be directed: as always, a striving for peace came first, as well as the Green Party policies, much of which were left over from the Scottish Government of Earth. Now though, her faction would follow isolationism, a removal from the events of other factions, a removal from the Council, and a removal from the bickering and wars. Time for Gaia's Stepdaughters to grow, to nurture a generation used to peace, to begin anew the purpose of her faction. A new, greater city would be built, with a simple name: Gaia.  
  
Among the unspoiled island, the largest non-continental landmass on Planet, her faction would prosper once again. The bases acquired from the Spartans would be dismantled too, taken to the islands. In a sense, Gaia was retreating, retreating from war and bloodshed, from hate and despair, to begin a new age of hope, peace and renewal. Deirdre would have like to remain optimistic, but unfortunately, she had been through the 'fresh start' routine for too many times.  
  
Like everything, something was bound to go wrong.  
  
  
  
Fifty years passed. The Gaian Faction settled the New Island, aided by the Council, who paid for almost all that Deirdre wished to be done. A sense of guilt perhaps, had made the Council offer the leader of pacifism aid, but nobody was so naive anymore. Whatever reasons they had for aiding the Gaians, were their business. As long as the harmony of Planet was upheld, nobody minded.  
  
The Spartan Vendetta had ended, and all Factions, bruised and bloodied from war, began their own withdrawals from the Council. They still attended, but things were much more subdued. The war had lasted for years, and every person living on Planet wished to recuperate.  
  
The University under Zakharov continued to offer aid to Deirdre, and did the Council, but, as she had said, she did not wish to rely on the Council, and so ten years after the occupation of New Island, the aid stopped, but by then, the Gaian Faction had recovered.  
  
Gaia, the new city had taken the full ten years to build, and all the technology of the six factions had gone towards making it the most splendid city upon Planet, a reality that far outshone the memory of Landing.  
  
The groves were created once again, as were the climatic domes. The river that ran through this city was cleaner, brighter. In almost everything, everything about this new life was better.  
  
Deirdre and Zakharov remained good friends, although that friendship never again sparked into romance. The business of reorganising the new order of their factions occupied too much of their time, and they could not pursue anything other than close friendship.  
  
Hale returned to Deirdre, half-dead after months of torture at the hands of Santiago. He had come close to unearthing the treachery of Abdim, and only a betrayal on the inside of his network had undone him.  
  
It was one of the greatest jokes of Gaian history that occurred twenty years after the settlement of New Island. Hundreds and hundreds of mindworms seemed to sprout from the xenofungus fields, and the consciousness of Planet had told Deirdre that help had arrived. There was not a straight face in Gaia, when their leader explained that the help that Planet had offered while New Glasgow had arrived, seemingly in the nick of time. It remains, to this day a hilarious story told at least once in every day.  
  
Deirdre gradually recovered from the mental affects of Landing's End, and her own torture, and she learned to come to grips with her own appearance. People worldwide saluted her strength of character, and praised her courage. The Gaian people hailed her as a national hero, and erected monuments to her in every city, likening her now, instead of the Virgin Maiden they had served, to the Wise Mother. Peace flowered in the New Island, and Gaians remained out of the affairs in the world.  
  
Wars flared up occasionally outside the island, and political manoeuvrings changed the positions of almost every faction, but the Gaian faction always remained unchanged, hidden away as they were in the forests and mountains of New Island. The location of any Gaian base other than Memory of Earth remains a closely guarded secret to this day; for fear that an event like Landing's Fall might occur again.  
  
And so, it came as a complete surprise to Lady Deirdre when Provost Zakharov contacted her one summers day, offering something terrible. 


	18. Choices

Well here we are. Huge things are now in the balance of Deirdre's decisions. The fate of every living thing on the planet, the well-being of the other factions. The possibilities for her ultimate destruction are increasing. Hopefully, for you readers, the suspense is growing. Well, have fun!  
  
  
  
"Zakharov has contacted Memory, my Lady, requesting a communication outlet with you. Shall we put him through to here?"  
  
Deirdre nodded almost absently. Why was Zakharov contacting her now? After three years of silence, what was so important about today? Well, she would find out shortly. Sitting up straight in the throne room of Gaia, she asked the aide quietly:  
  
"How long has Channel 9 been dormant?"  
  
That was how they had decided to protect the whereabouts of the Gaian cities. Memory of Earth was the only base that showed up on scanners, and was the only base that could be contacted by a foreign faction.  
  
Communication pathways, as they were called, numbered in their thousands at Memory. These digital pathways spanned out like a web, passing through every city on New Island. In case these pathways were hacked into, the pathway of communication to each city would change every few minutes, erratically, without any discernable pattern. In this way, Deirdre could speak with all other faction leaders from Gaia, without them ever knowing where her city was to be found.  
  
Physical searching was impossible as well. No foreigner was allowed outside of Memory, and the Guard enforced those laws. It made her feel much more secure, knowing that in no way could anyone ever pinpoint the location of her city. Of course, it meant that the beauty of Gaia would never be shared, but in her mind, Deirdre knew this was a small enough price to pay.  
  
"Two weeks, milady. Would you like to begin the sequences from there?"  
  
Nodding, she smiled at the young aide. Thomas was his name, the grandson of Marco. He was like his grandfather in many respects. A level-head, keen insight, and skilled psychic talents made him a prime candidate for Empath Novice. Oonly one citizen of Gaia was chosen for the Empath Guild every year, and to be a member of the potent organisation was an honour.  
  
Other, smaller guilds were found in all cities, but the skill and influence of the Empath Guild was unmatched. Once Thomas had finished his training, Deirdre planned to accept him into her Council. Another able- minded and loyal advisor could never hurt, could it?  
  
She waited three minutes, as the changing of pathways was instigated. Communications ran erratically, and finally, after careful choosing of outlets and inlets, the face of Zakharov appeared on the screen, looking concerned.  
  
"Deirdre is all this necessary? Surely you can trust me. Have I offended you in some way, lady?"  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "Zakharov. These precautions are necessary. You have known about them all the years my faction has remained here. What is different now?" She sighed. "No matter. I will not be changing the communication laws, Provost, no matter what anyone says. Now, my aide has mentioned that you wanted to speak with me about something?"  
  
"Change!"  
  
The voice of the computer ran across the room, and switches were pressed. The change in communication pathways was unnoticeable, but Zakharov shook his head, a faint smile appearing on his face.  
  
"Deirdre, such an amazing invention, these pathways you have. How I wish I could have thought of them. So...erratic. There is no organisation, no laws, no stability. An academicians nightmare." He attempted to laugh, but had to sigh. "I need to ask you something, my lady, and you will not like it."  
  
Deirdre narrowed her eyes. "Speak on, Provost."  
  
"The times are changing, Deirdre. I know you choose not to interfere in the outside world, but your possession of the Empath Guild allows you to see what goes on within each faction. I for one know that you will not just sit by while vital knowledge of Planet escapes you."  
  
The pathways were changed, and what looked like a flicker of annoyance passed across the face of the Provost. Deirdre shook the thought away. What, was she seeing spectres in the face on an ally, now? Maybe isolation made her more cautious than she needed to be? Maybe...  
  
"I know what occurs outside my faction, if that is what you mean, Zakharov. I have heard of the brief war between you and Yang, and the oath of allegiance he has sworn to you. I have heard of the political clash between you and Lal for the position of Council Leader. I have heard about your mobilisation, and rumours of atrocities committed by the Believers and the Morganites. Other than that, you might say I am completely uninformed."  
  
Zakharov laughed. "Good. You know the situation then. It is true that I and Lal have been struggling for the position of Council Leader, but that is merely so that I can block the attempt of Miriam to abolish the Atrocity Ban. Morgan is firmly in her pocket, and without my support, Lal will just smile at them and let them destroy Planet. He does not want my support though. So I am forced to stand to become Leader. Even that is not working though."  
  
Deirdre shrugged. "And."  
  
She suddenly realised what Zakharov was proposing, and she paled. "No, Provost. Never. I will not stand for the position. I have foresworn my position, and now you want me to go back and stand for leader? No."  
  
Zakharov smiled. "By Planet, I have missed you, my lady. Do you know, you are the only person on Planet who can still guess what I have in mind? It never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes it makes me wish we had not..."  
  
He voice trailed off, and he blushed. "Forgive me, my lady. I should not have said that. Very well, I shall leave you to your own counsel. You, I know, are perfectly safe on New Island. Farewell, Deirdre."  
  
She sighed, and then said. "Zakharov, wait!"  
  
He said: "Yes?"  
  
Deirdre bowed her head, and looked at the floor. "When you said you wished we had not- well- what did you mean?"  
  
Zakharov smiled. "I meant that we should never have called off our relationship. I love you Deirdre. I always have. That time at Lindly's Rest. I can never forget it. I know you are alone in Gaia; there is no-one who understands how you feel. Damn it, there is no-one her in University Base who understands how I feel. I want you, Deirdre. I want to touch you, hold you and kiss you, once again."  
  
Deirdre bit her lip. "Zakharov. I love you too, but that is gone. It is done with."  
  
Zakharov nodded. "I understand. Very well. Goodbye."  
  
Deirdre said: "No! Don't go yet! I need to know. Provost, are you in danger? If I do not do this, where will it leave you?"  
  
Zakharov turned away, and did not speak. Deirdre tried again. "Zakharov?"  
  
He rubbed his forehead as if in turmoil. "Deirdre, I have no wish to change your mind about your stance."  
  
She shouted: "Damn it! Tell me what will happen!"  
  
Zakharov nodded. "Very well. If you stand, Lal will support you. He has to, otherwise he will be stuck in the clash between himself and me. Miriam and Morgan may go either way. I will support you, as will Yang. That is then four factions against two, and we can easily block whatever motions they wish to pass through the Council."  
  
He broke off, and looked around. "If you do not stand, lady, then I will be stuck in this pointless political trouble with Lal. Yang and I could block the motion with Lal, but he will side with the stronger side. In this scenario, it would be Morgan and Miriam. No threat will emerge for many years, but eventually, they will defeat me, then they will eliminate Lal. Then it will be Morgan and Miriam, united, against you, my lady. Against you. And then all your dreams for peace will be shattered as if they have never been."  
  
Deirdre closed her eyes. She had no choice. "Very well, Zakharov, I will stand in the next meeting. It appears this isolationist period is over. The Gaian Faction will once again take a seat in the Council." She looked directly at the screen, into the digital pixels that made up the eyes of Zakharov. "I hope you are right, Provost."  
  
Zakharov said. "I am. If I were you, my lady, I would begin a gradual build-up of your military. Defence of your faction must be your first priority, and although your other cities are hidden, Memory is not."  
  
The screen went blank. 


	19. Deception

Wow, another chapter. I am getting as many of them off today as possible, as I am experienced a rare burst of creativity. Any improvements would be welcomed. Anyway, enjoy this one!  
  
  
  
The shuttle arrived in Chiron City three hours before the meeting. Deirdre was amazed at the size of the settlement. It had been built at the very moment her faction had gone into its self-imposed exile. To build a unified city, without divisions of faction loyalties, or any false patriotism, that had been the plan.  
  
Every faction, including her own, had contributed something to the construction. Parks and groves filled the city, alongside synthmetal factories. These factories were different though. She and Morgan had sat down together for days, discussing ways in which to maximise profit, and still preserve the environment.  
  
It cost more money to construct, but the new model of factory, named the Green Factories, were built around the theories of recycling and burning waste. No energy was wasted, for it was circulated around the factory repeatedly. Morgan had been unhappy about the extra cost, but he had been more than exultant at the way these new factories hardly needed managing at all. It all came from the concept of a perpetual motion machine.  
  
Back on Earth, scientists had dreamed up ways of creating a machine that would keep moving continually, using the same energy repeatedly. If anyone had invented one, they would have made millions. Imagine cars running on the same amount of petrol each day. Deirdre smiled when she remembered the mad rushes to claim the last oil resources, when she was sixteen. The western countries had been forced to turn to other things then, like water. A great day for the Greens.  
  
The only problem with perpetual motion machines was that they could only ever work in a frictionless environment. Friction slowed down movement, and so no machine could run forever on the same energy, because eventually, the friction would slow it down.  
  
With the discovery of the magtube technology though, frictionless environments were made possible, and now factories were run on the same fuel, never ceasing, never stopping. The Sleepless Factories, they were called. The result of a unification of Morganites and Gaians.  
  
The University had contributed centres of learning, the Believers immense cathedrals of epic proportions. The Peacekeepers had given their schools and other public works. It was a true beauty, thought Deirdre. A sign of hope.  
  
  
  
"Welcome back, Deirdre. The Lord himself had nearly given up hope. Will you sit? I have heard of your plans to stand for leader. I approve whole- heartedly. Perhaps you could join me in my chambers shortly?"  
  
She gave a polite nod to Miriam, and sat down next to her. Lal stood in the centre of the small room, talking about some sort of legislation. Pointless waffle, thought Deirdre. Why was he seeing to these things, when he knew it was time for an election?  
  
The reason hit her straight away. He was trying to pass his own laws before she came to power. He had automatically assumed she was going to win, and so was trying to get everything done to his advantage before he lost his position.  
  
"Lal. I think it is time for the election, do you not?"  
  
The leader of the Peacekeepers sighed, and nodded shortly, before speaking, with the voice of an orator: "Lady Deirdre has expressed a wish to stand against me for the position of Council Leader. Would anyone else wish to stand against me?"  
  
Nobody moved, and Lal smiled. "Good. I vote for Deirdre. She is a breath of new life into this Council, and I for one will be glad to alleviate myself of these responsibilities. It will be good to spend more time at home."  
  
Zakharov stood. "I choose Deirdre as well. She has been absent for too long, but that can be used to our advantage. She will have no bias to the motions passed, and can choose the fairest course of action."  
  
He sat, and then Miriam stood: "My faction will support her."  
  
Morgan nodded, but did not stand. "Aye. Mine too."  
  
Everyone looked at Yang, and he rolled his eyes, before standing. "I choose Deirdre."  
  
Then it was done. Deirdre had been elected to the position of Council Leader.  
  
Nobody but Deirdre saw the flicker of triumph that appeared in the eyes of Provost Zakharov, and she smiled. He smiled back.  
  
  
  
"Council members. For many years now, Zakharov of the University has been engaging in un-orthodox testing of chemical weapons, which endanger the stability of the peace, and damage the sanctity of the environment. In order to ensure that all members of the Council cannot be put at risk, I ask that we be allowed to construct our own weapons, for self-defence. In order for this to be permissible, I ask that the Atrocity Ban be lifted."  
  
Miriam sat, and waited patiently as Deirdre stood. It had been ages since she had stood in this room, speaking for or against an argument. She had not even realised how much she had missed it.  
  
"Council members. The point that Miriam made is correct to some extent. Chemical weapons do endanger the stability of peace, and the environment. However, she is not right on the account of Provost Zakharov. For years my Empaths have searched every faction for traces of chemical weapons, in the aim that should I encounter them, I would appear before this Council to denounce them, whoever they may be. Zakharov had no weapons, and indeed, still has no weapons. Even if he had them, I would still not endorse this act. You merely have to look at Earth, to gain the answer to this. For years, nuclear powers stared at each other over the heads of these missiles that could wipe out whole nations. There is no hope of peace when both sides are split by mistrust due to these weapons. No. The atrocity ban is wrong."  
  
She paused, and sipped at a glass of cold water, before saying: "I think it is time to vote, Council members."  
  
It went exactly as Zakharov had foretold. Lal went with her, as did Zakharov and Lal. Miriam and Morgan both voted to abolish it, but cursed in frustration when they realised they were outmatched.  
  
Then Zakharov stood. "I propose a new act. Chemical weapons shall be made legal for all factions."  
  
Deirdre frowned. He had said nothing of this. "What are your reasons for this, Provost Zakharov?"  
  
Zakharov smiled at her warmly. Damn him, what was he doing? He had no right to carry on in public! It undermined her position. Did he want them to think she was eating out of his hand?  
  
Looks were exchanged between members of the Council, and a few open frowns. It was obvious that they thought exactly that. Deirdre would have sworn, if she had not been in public.  
  
"My lady. I believe that the possession of these weapons must be made legal. What is to stop factions from possessing them illegally? At least if we make them legal, we know who has them, and how many."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "Zakharov. That will just ensure more distrust between factions. I say no. Cast your votes, Council Members."  
  
The result was surprising to say the least. Miriam and Morgan, both apparently staunch opponents of Zakharov, voted for his motion, as did Yang. Lal followed those three. Clicking the switch that processed her own vote, she voted against it as well. It didn't matter anyway. She couldn't even use her veto. The act was passed.  
  
  
  
Yang stood next, courteous and kind as ever. "Council Members. I am sure you all know of the riots that have gripped cities throughout Planet for the past few years. These are damaging to public safety, and to the well- being of our social infrastructure. These riots cannot be allowed to continue. I propose that we issue orders to the Council forces to stop these riots, and to prevent the protesting of these dangerous individuals. Who will support me in this?"  
  
Miriam and Morgan both automatically flicked 'Yes'. Lal waited a little longer, but, with a torn expression, pressed yes as well. What was that idiot doing? He was a democrat, approving the use of police powers against protesters?  
  
Zakharov flicked yes as well, though his face remained solemn as he did so. Perhaps there were things going on that she didn't know about. She would have to speak to him about it after the Council.  
  
Sighing in frustration, she glanced at the votes. Unanimous again. With a groan, she flicked no. What else could she do?  
  
  
  
The proposing of motions went on all day, and Deirdre watched, helpless as the voting allowed the pressing down on the people of all factions, the removal of many environmental acts; and the approval of many other acts that would never have been passed the day before. Zakharov had made a severe blunder, it seemed.  
  
When the session was declared over, Deirdre remained behind, and said, over the comm-link: "I would like to see Zakharov, if he is not too busy."  
  
The Provost remained behind with her, a smile on his face, until the last of the members left. Then he sat beside her, tears in his eyes. "Deirdre! I did not foresee any of this! I am so sorry. We opposed the abolition of the atrocity ban, but I was powerless to stop anything else. Deirdre, I am so sorry!"  
  
Deirdre said quietly: "You know exactly how this will look, don't you, Proctor? The common people will see me as leader of the Council, and will observe how on the very day I came to power; I began to systematically destroy democracy, and the environmental safeguards! Why did you vote for all those motions? I could have vetoed them had you not! Explain yourself!"  
  
Zakharov bowed his head, and Deirdre was surprised to notice that he was weeping. He looked up, anguished and tearful: "Oh, Deirdre! I couldn't, Yang has his fist over my throat. If I budge a tiny bit away from him, he will destroy me. I could not vote against him!"  
  
Deirdre frowned. "You defeated him in the last war, though."  
  
Zakharov shook his head. "No. He defeated me. He made it look as though I had crushed him, but in actuality, his forces hold all my bases except for University Base. I am a puppet, Deirdre, and I cannot do anything about it!"  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "Planet preserves us. Zakharov, why did you not tell me this before now? I could have done something to stop it. Why?"  
  
He roared: "Because I love you, my lady! Because I would have had to dishonour your vow against war, because I would have shattered the peace of your faction. Because I am a craven worm who cannot think for himself! Forgive me, lady. Please, forgive me."  
  
Deirdre felt a sudden longing for this man, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She had missed the feel of Zakharov, and the scent of him, a strange chemical scent that had always attracted her.  
  
"Zakharov, I could never do anything but forgive you. I love you so! I have missed you, and I could never say anything about it." She paused, and then continued to speak, this time much more quietly. "Come, let us forget about these troubles for the night, and tomorrow, we will deal with Yang."  
  
And so right there, on the floor of the Council Chamber, the made love once again, Deirdre crying in anguish and despair, and Zakharov in horror and hopelessness. It was a dark coupling, with their love tinged with fear.  
  
Nevertheless, when Deirdre woke in the morning, and found Zakharov beside her, she felt the happiest she had in years. For once, somebody was looking at her with adoration, instead of respect- and pity. 


	20. Despair

I am going to be moving very quickly at this point, for the sake of continuing the plot, and for the sake of my sanity. I really don't like writing about romance between my patron faction leader and an old, perverted Russian scientist. (nothing against Russians, its just the accent. Could you imagine Zakharov during sex?)  
  
AARRRRGGGHHHH! Even worse, could you imagine what his sex sound is?  
  
*shuddershuddershuddershudderpuke*  
  
I really don't want to think about that one too much. Brrrrr. Anyway, try and enjoy this chapter. Sorry Josh, about this pairing, and anyone else it may offend.  
  
  
  
The new laws of restriction came into place at midday. Deirdre stared mutely at the vid-screen in her chambers at Chiron City, and shook her head ruefully when she saw the looks of shock, and betrayal on the faces of the protesters.  
  
Zakharov stood next to her, his face equally as grim. He looked at her, and spoke quietly, obviously contemplative:  
  
"My lady Deirdre. What should we do now then?"  
  
Deirdre looked at him, and shuddered. She felt half-dead. What was she even doing here? She breathed out heavily, and then said: "I have no idea, Zakharov. I think it is time Yang and I had a little chat though. I want to know why he felt it necessary to manipulate the Council in his own direction."  
  
Zakharov nodded. "Yes. However, lady, he will not admit to any of this, you know that, do you not? Perhaps it would be best if you simply declared Vendetta upon him. I myself would support you, and I am sure Lal would. He hates Yang with a vengeance."  
  
Deirdre shook her head. "I am not going to war again, Zakharov. If it comes to violence, you may remove Yang. I will give you energy credits and supplies, but never again will my faction become involved in a war."  
  
Zakharov opened his mouth in shock, and he tried to speak. Frowning, he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Finally he said: "Deirdre. I respect your decision, but if you give me supplies, you would already be involved."  
  
Deirdre nodded simply: "Yes, but my faction will not be fighting, Zak. I remember too well the war with Santiago, and I do not want a repeat of that hell-like time. Planet suffered incredibly because of my pride. If necessary, the Gaian Faction will bow down and become puppets, as you say. I will not fight. Ever."  
  
Zakharov replied: "That is not your decision, Deirdre."  
  
Deirdre flared red: "It is my decision, Zakharov. I made the decision to fight against the Spartans all those years ago, and I nearly ruined my Faction because of it. What use is a pacifistic faction, that is ready to go to war at the drop of a hat?"  
  
Zakharov looked equally angry: "You cannot shrug off the sacrifices of all those that died because of that war, my lady! Diehl, Marco, Lindly, and millions others, all died so that their Faction could remain out of the iron grip of Santiago. If you now decide not to fight, their sacrifices will be in vain."  
  
Deirdre shook her head as if in denial of the facts, and then strode over to the arched window, staring out at the cityscape, as if in a trance. Zakharov came up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her.  
  
"Whatever you decide, Deirdre, it will be for the best."  
  
She smiled. "Its comforting to know that. At least, no matter how much I bungle things, I have you to turn to, don't I? You are my rock."  
  
Zakharov smiled. "Nothing so brainless, I am afraid. How about a weasel, or a hamster? Hmm...maybe even a rabbit?"  
  
To anyone else not from Earth, that conversation would probably not have made much sense, but Deirdre turned, and grinned wickedly. "You do seem to have some of the characteristics of a rabbit, Mr Zakharov. Tell me, do rabbits usually mate so frequently in one night?"  
  
He laughed. "Deirdre. Please. People might here."  
  
She giggled, pulling him closer to her. "Yes, and if they do? They will hear us having a complicated discussion about the breeding patterns of rabbits. Which is partially true, I suppose."  
  
Zakharov barely moved. "Hmm. I appear to have forgotten, why were we like rabbits again?"  
  
Deirdre knew at once where he was heading, and she tapped him lightly on the nose.  
  
"I had thought age would have mellowed you out a little, my dear. You are as eager as the most adolescent of bunnies. No. There is no time, Zakharov. It is time that we dealt with Yang."  
  
  
  
The Gaian war with the Hive was brutally swift. Yang was totally unprepared for such an obvious display of aggression from Lady Deirdre, and so he watched, powerless as her legions of green-clad troops broke into base after base.  
  
Zakharov and the University did not participate in the short war, being content instead to build up their own military forces. Loud protests were raised in the Council, but everyone was too afraid of the Gaian/University Alliance to say anything. Lal supported the war, and so it was impossible to pass a motion that forbade it. Quite literally, the entire nation of Planet watched as the Hive was ground into dust beneath the not-so tender feet of the Gaians.  
  
Planet did not seem to object to the actions of Lady Deirdre. After all, by removing Yang from power, it was removing many bases that caused horrendous pollution. The citizens of Gaia, however, were not so easily dissuaded.  
  
Only constant pleading prevented them from rioting, that and the memory of what riots had done to Landing many years ago. In Chiron City, however, riots became commonplace. An entire legion of Gaian warriors was needed to protect Deirdre as she left the Council quarters for her own embassy building. Assassination attempts were usual, and the efforts of Hale and his Shadow Network were concentrated solely on protecting Deirdre from all harm.  
  
Finally, Deirdre realised how much harm she had done to the stability of Planet, and resigned her role as Council Leader. Into the vacuum, Zakharov stepped, and became leader. It was with a heavy heart, he said, that he would accept the responsibility of the leadership. Immediately, he stepped up police powers, and ordered the Lady Deirdre to cease her Vendetta against the Hive.  
  
Shocked, Deirdre did just that. Only then, did Deirdre realise how much of a fool she had been. Only then did she begin to realise that perhaps she had been manipulated. Of course, by then, it was far, far too late.  
  
  
  
She sat at her throne in Gaia, revelling in the peace. It was a welcome change from the swelter of Chiron City, and the screaming, roaring rioting crowds. Her forces had now completely withdrawn from the Hive bases, and Zakharov had clamped down on the riots. No more did anyone voice their own opinions, too afraid of their own shadows to do much else. With the absence of Deirdre, Zakharov rescinded the Atrocity Ban, and nerve-stapled any wayward citizens. Yang did the same.  
  
By now, the last of her forces had reached New Island. Most of them had returned to their home bases, but many of them, seven legions remained in Memory of Earth. It was to the Governor of this city that Deirdre spoke.  
  
Maria had been Governor of the city for a good two-hundred years, and had been a constant friend with her leader throughout. Deirdre was thankful that she had a friend with whom to conduct the business of removing her armies from the city. Any other Governor could have made things difficult, but Maria remained loyal.  
  
"So, within two weeks, we should have removed..." Maria broke off, as an aide stepped up besides her, whispering in her ear. The woman paled, and stood. "Forgive me, my lady. There is something approaching us on the radar. It looks like a-"  
  
The screen flared red, brilliant, unadulterated red, and then it began to crackle. Deirdre whirled round to her aides, and shouted:  
  
"What has happened?"  
  
Before she could hear any answer, she felt a shrieking grip as Planet seized control of her mind. She shivered. This time, when Planet spoke, it dripped with powerful fury, and agony. It roared:  
  
EARTHDEIRDRE! PAIN! PAIN! AGONY! GREAT HURT! FIRE! WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. IT IS BAD. PLANETDEATH? PAIN! EARTHDEIRDRE. EARTHDEIRDRE. EARTHDEirdre. EARThdeirdre. EARthdeirdre. Earthdeirdre. earthdeirdre. help. pain  
  
Silence fell. Deirdre was huddled, her hands clutching her head, shivering. What had happened? Arms lifted her up, and then she heard what people were saying. Many of them were pointing out of the crystal windows, in the direction of Memory. Into the sky, a pillar of red fire and smoke rose. A mushroom cloud? No! Impossible. Unless, no. Not...  
  
"Access secondary communication grid. I need information."  
  
It took twenty minutes to get the new grid up and running. By then, planes had been launched towards Memory, and the pictures were returning. Deirdre paled when she saw them. The city had gone. Instead, there was a massive crater, with melted metal and disintegrated stone. The obvious effects of a Planet Buster.  
  
"Lady, communications coming in from the University. Shall I put Zakharov on screen?"  
  
Deirdre nodded. What was Zakharo- Her breath rattled in her throat, and she whispered, in terror: "Oh my god."  
  
When Zakharov appeared on the screen, he was smiling: "Greetings, my lady. I have recently had the pleasure of dispatching my own personal sign of my affection to you. It was due to arrive at Memory of Earth, oh, about twenty minutes ago? Think of it as an early birthday present."  
  
Deirdre had gone deadly white. Zakharov spared her the need to answer, instead, giving her a scornful glare, continuing. "They say that the villain is always undone in the exposition. Nonsense, in my opinion. It serves to dismay the chosen antagonist, it makes them see how foolish they have been, in trusting."  
  
Deirdre finally found words, breathing vehemently: "You bastard."  
  
Zakharov smiled. "Come on, surely you can do better than that, you half- burned whore? By every know equation in the world, you were so easy to manipulate, Deirdre. The typical, predictable expression of one of my behavioural pattern observations. Clever woman," he read slowly off a sheet of paper. "Has a habit of impatience, and cannot make, or counter plans made years in advance."  
  
Deirdre breathed out, and opened her mouth to speak, but Zakharov continued, laughing now. "Amazing, such a complicated array of emotions on that face! Do I see a tint of despair, sadness, oh! Betrayal! How many times have I seen you feeling sorry for yourself? Would you like to know how long I have been plotting your downfall, you bitch? Would you? Ha! Since Planetfall! These plans, I have entwined them around you, delicate spider webs of deceit and intricate cunning!"  
  
Deirdre blinked away tears. "I- I- I thought you loved me, Zakharov."  
  
He laughed, a screeching, hoarse sound. "Love? What is love, Deirdre? Nothing! It is an empty fallacy! Ha, and an amazing tool for manipulation. Maybe I could do all this again, sometime. Well, the occasion may not come again, so I will take full advantage of this time. Maybe to clear up any confusion you have about our relationship."  
  
Shaking her head, Deirdre was numb to the tears falling down her face. The words of this scientist seemed to echo through her mind, and she tried to drive them away, to will them out of existence.  
  
"You are a lonely woman, Deirdre. Alone in your cause to protect this heap of rock you call Planet, alone in your cause to ensure peace. Therefore, when I offered a chance at friendship, and love, which any immature girl dreams of, you practically leapt into my arms. And my bed. And the second time? So easy! Your ugly face, wrecked by fire, made you even lonelier. You were desperate for an admirer, and so you fell, once again, into my traps. And the Council! The easiest deception in history! You lapped up my threats of war with sincerity! Oh, with you, my lady, the road to power is so sweet, and easy. Imagine, I will be the only person every to have had sex with the beautiful girl, Deirdre Skye, and the withered old hag. Interesting oxymoron, are you really the same person?"  
  
Deirdre sobbed. She felt lost. Had she been so stupid? All the conversations with Zakharov came back to her, and she cursed herself. In every one of them, she had fallen completely under his sway.  
  
"You are realising your mistakes, now, yes? Good. I will tell you my last, most terrible secret. Santiago, my dear lady, was totally innocent!"  
  
Deirdre choked on her weeping now, and stared at him, eyes wide in horror. "Wh- wh- what do you mean? What! Tell me!"  
  
He laughed, shrill now. "Oh, she started the war, but before then she was as dedicated to peace as you. Her parents had died for it, you see. That tends to make one dedicated to a cause, doesn't it? Enter, moi. I had her captured and wait for it, this is the best bit. I had her tortured, in her own punishment sphere. Brilliant? Economy of resources, I always say. Well, after her little holiday, she was totally mad, and guess whom she trusted with all her little heart? Dear old Zakharov, whom she looked upon as a dear uncle. Are all women so easy to deceive!"  
  
Deirdre couldn't believe this. Where was the Zakharov she had fallen in love with. He smiled at her, and said. "He doesn't exist by the way. That other Zakharov. Nope, total fantasy." Looking at her expression, he rolled his eyes. "It isn't exactly hard to work out what you are thinking of, Deirdre. A gnat could read your face."  
  
Deirdre bit her lip, feeling hopeless. The throne room had fallen silent. "Yang? What of him? Was he innocent?"  
  
Zakharov shook his head. "No, Yang has been my most staunch ally during our sojourn on this rock. It was both of us who kept the Council fractured in disunity. We watched all the others' attempts to bring peace, and it was amazing to shatter them ourselves."  
  
He yawned melodramatically. "Well then, Lady Deirdre. I have one more present for you. It is called Vendetta. Right then, goodbye. I've got people to torture and cities to fry. You know the drill. Until next time, slut!"  
  
The channel went dead, and the silence was broken only by the sound of Deirdre broken, despairing weeping. 


	21. Redemption

Yey! Now I can turn my dreams of a nice Believer and Morganite faction into reality! Deirdre has to enlist support for her war against Zakharov. Note: she is not going through the whole oh my god I am so guilty for everything phase, as that will detract from the pace. Suffice to say, she has been through all that. Phheeew, I may even get this story finished in a few days. Then I can go on to my Terry Brooks story. Sorry Feye, don't mean to follow you around. Hmm...or maybe little short stories for Alpha Centauri...who knows. Enjoy this one, anyway!  
  
  
  
The loss of communications at Memory of Earth was not a major blow to the Gaians. In preparation for such a day, they had erected communication stations all over the island, which had ample enough staff with which to organise the grid. The location of the other Gaian cities still had to be kept a secret.  
  
Three more satellites had been launched in the past hour, strengthening the protection from space, which would prevent satellites from viewing New Island from outer space. The cities were safe, but there was still no way that Deirdre could take the fight to Zakharov.  
  
By Planet! She gave herself a shake! What was she doing? Seven legions of her warriors had been wiped out! Fifty million people were eliminated in the destruction of Memory, including many of her friends! And she was concerned about not being able to take the fight to that bastard?  
  
She bowed her head. The Gaian people had offered her their unconditional support, mainly after one of her aides had shown every inhabitant the footage of the conversation with Zakharov. She had not approved, but she was grateful that now her own people did not look at her like a traitor. However, she was not entirely sure she wanted their support. After all, what would war achieve, more deaths? More slaughter?  
  
No.  
  
She had made up her mind yesterday to take revenge for the wrongs Zakharov had committed during his time as Faction Leader. The intricacy of his plans astounded her. He had kept the feuds going, he had laid plans that would not take place for centuries, and finally, he had completely and utterly humiliated her, and destroyed one of her cities. That was getting to be too easy.  
  
First New Glasgow, then Gaia's Landing, and now Memory of Earth? Damn him! He had been behind every single problem troubling her faction since day one. Her counsellors had been busy, ridding themselves of any University data, in case Zakharov could activate viruses hidden in there. Even gifts from centuries ago were erased, for fear of more long-laid plans.  
  
They had also been going through records with a toothcomb, and had discovered discrepancies and anomalies which indeed, proved that the University had fuelled the discord on Planet. These reports, along with the conversation with Zakharov, had been sent to every faction on Planet.  
  
Deirdre was to be talking with them today, each one, individually, in an attempt to garner support for her war. The Empath Guild had located more University bases in the last unoccupied continent, hundreds of them. How Zakharov had kept them hidden, she didn't know, but those bases meant that he had enough military might to defeat her with a click of his fingers.  
  
Even with the united forces of every faction on the planet, it might not be enough. Whether or not it was, Deirdre thought to herself, it would have to be. There was no way she was going to let Zakharov continue with his cancerous existence.  
  
  
  
"Miriam. I- I came to beg for absolution, for I have sinned."  
  
She struggled for a moment, attempting to remember the ritual phrase.  
  
"I have sinned, in my thoughts, and in my words; in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do."  
  
She paused.  
  
"Miriam, please, I ask your forgiveness. As chaplain of the Unity, I want you to listen, and counsel me on how to resolve my souls conflict."  
  
The leader of the Believers frowned.  
  
"I was not aware that your were a believer in the Lord, Deirdre. How long have you been listening to the Scripture? It would not have anything to do with these unfortunate circumstances with Provost Zakharov, would it? Forgive me, my lady. But I have no time to talk with you."  
  
Deirdre felt a sudden desperation. "Miriam, please! I- I used to be a Methodist, with my father and mother. I stopped believing shortly before we entered the Unity. My father always went on about the glory of God, and I believed him, but he also said that God gave him the authority to do everything that he did to me. Did God give him the authority to beat me until I gave in? That is why I gave away my faith, and for centuries it has made me feel rotten inside, like a festering corpse. By God, Miriam! Will you refuse my request?"  
  
Miriam bowed her head, and when she looked up, tears glistened in her eyes. "Lady Deirdre. I cannot refuse your request, you are right. Nor can I join your in a war against Zakharov."  
  
Deirdre sighed. "Miriam. I will not lie to you. That is one of my reasons for contacting you, but this request is my main reason, that I swear, on the Holy Bible itself, by Jesus, and the saints, by the Holy Bread and Wine!"  
  
Miriam nodded. "Very well. What is it you want absolved, daughter?"  
  
Deirdre breathed in. "I allowed myself to be deceived, Miriam. I allowed myself to be led by vanity, and pride. I allowed myself to fall into the darkness of temptation. My pride has cost my people dear, and it has plunged Planet into grave peril. My decisions have caused millions to die. God, I wish I could take my decision back. If only I could decide not to come here again. That is a futile dream, Miriam, and since I must go to war with Zakharov, I would prefer to go to war with a pure soul."  
  
Miriam nodded. "Very well Deirdre. Pride is a grave sin, but remember, that Jesus himself resisted Pride when faced by it in the desert. Take courage from the strength of the Lord, and he will be your light in dark places, your courage in times of weakness. Open your heart to him, Deirdre. Lay your false devices before him, and he will love you nonetheless. I absolve you of your sin, Deirdre. Let no more the Devil rest in you, you have repented, your sins are washed away. Once more, you are a Child of the Lord." Miriam sighed. "Deirdre, I am sorry, but I must go now. God go with you."  
  
Deirdre shouted. "Please, wait!"  
  
Miriam shook her head in hopelessness. "Deirdre, I cannot go to war with Zakharov." Deirdre looked incredulous. "Did you not receive my information about his treachery, about his consultations with that beast Yang to create disunity, about his heathen attitude to God, about-"  
  
Miriam roared. "Enough, Deirdre! Until ten minutes ago, you were a heathen. Is this the only reason you extorted my to absolve you, so that you could command me to attack Zakharov. Can you not make peace, Deirdre?"  
  
Deirdre opened her eyes wide. "Miriam. You saw what happened to New Glasgow. A New Eden you called it. Then Gaia's Landing, when you spoke to me, you told me that you regretted that the First Eden was broken. And now, when Memory of Earth lies, destroyed, you tell me to make peace with the monster that is behind all the problems, behind all the persecutions that have plagued us. You for your faith, and I for my ideals. You speak of the Lords strength, well, when he was faced by injustice and darkness, he gave his own life on the Cross to save us. But you, even though you are the Final Hope of Christendom, even you cannot stand upright to challenge the darkness! Am I on my own then, Miriam?"  
  
Miriam reddened with anger. "Be careful, Deirdre. Do not argue the Scriptures with me. I have not sa-"  
  
Deirdre shouted back, seized with a fury unimaginable. Every time she had tried to get something done, she had been ignored, shrugged off by those apparently more experienced, or more grown-up.  
  
"Miriam! You will let my people die! You will let my cities burn once again! You are no better than Judas! Tell me, Miriam Iscariot, what did Zakharov offer you for your soul? I did not think the Believers were so easily bought! God damn you to hell, Miriam! I beg you, help me! Please! Do not doom my people to darkness and oppression. Please!"  
  
Miriam blinked, as if struck, then slowly, she began to laugh. "Nobody has ever had the courage to denounce me as a Judas before, Deirdre. I admire conviction and courage in a person. You have woken me up to this world once again. When I first landed, I was so eager to get things done, to spread the Word, to expand his power peacefully, but somehow, everything got twisted, and ruined."  
  
Deirdre waited, and Miriam spoke, her voice becoming louder, as if in rapture.  
  
"And now, a converted heathen is born again into the faith, and the calls of war sound loud on the last rock of humankind. A pacifist implores for war, and everything we hold dear is threatened with extinction. What shall the Believers choose? We shall fight, and if necessary, we shall die. Our blood shall avenge all these years of war. The new utopia shall be forged out of our sacrifice, and the mouth of Satan shall be cleansed."  
  
Miriam broke off, and then looked straight at Deirdre. Even though she was only seeing her from a screen, Deirdre could feel the pressing wait of the woman's charisma. Miriam smiled: "Contact Morgan, Deirdre. Tell him I support you. Tell him that the Lord has unveiled Satan in all his vices, and that the Devil can be found within the University. Say that the Word is now the sword of the pacifist. He will join with us. Lal..." She paused. "I shall allow you to bring him to our side. His love for the UN should work in our favour. I think."  
  
Deirdre prepared to end the communication, but Miriam frowned. "Wait. Deirdre. You helped Zakharov suppress the Nevus Uprising, didn't you?"  
  
Deirdre nodded. "Yes. His manipulations reach into everything, don't they?"  
  
Miriam shrugged. "Yes, but that is not what I meant. Contact the Nevians. They must still despise Zakharov. Urge them to fight against him. Hopefully, that will buy us time to ready our forces. One other thing, Deirdre. Your cities are safe. If I aid you in this war, you must bring your armies to my bases. Zakharov will attack there, I am sure of it. Morgan is safe on his islands, you are safe in your anonymity. Lal, if he joins is safe in the sea. I, however, am exposed. The mountains of my territory will delay him, but if I have no support, I will be the first to become a slave of the Scientist. This is my one and only condition, Deirdre."  
  
Deirdre smiled. "Anything for an ally, Miriam."  
  
Miriam raised an eyebrow.  
  
"And a friend, I hope, Deirdre. I truly do believe that we represent the new future. Once we remove Zakharov, we can continue with the peace we have all worked so hard for. Well then, I will leave you to contact Morgan and Lal. I shall contact the Nevians, if you wish. They probably hate you equally with Zakharov, and we really do need their aid. Good afternoon, Deirdre."  
  
The screen went dead.  
  
  
  
"Very well, Deirdre. I shall mobilise my forces. Miriam's territory, I take it, yes?"  
  
Deirdre must have expressed surprise, because Morgan laughed.  
  
"Miriam and I have been planning for war since we landed. Not as aggressors, but as defenders. Zakharov shall dash his armies like a tide upon her bases, and still they shall not fall. I will talk more with you later, Deirdre. When we are in New Jerusalem. Good day."  
  
  
  
"A chance to defeat Yang? I shall jump at that, my lady. Perhaps this way I can expunge my debt to you after the events in New Glasgow. I shall join you in New Jerusalem, lady. Good day."  
  
  
  
A busy day of negotiations, but finally, everything was completed. The sides had been chosen, the battle lines drawn. Now all that remained was to defeat the evil that was Zakharov, so that peace would have the chance to flower on Planet.  
  
Once again, Deirdre felt the stirring of hope. 


	22. Preparing

Wow. Almost finished this story! Although it has been fun, finishing this means I can get on with stuff, like my own original stories, or, like I said before, a Terry Brooks fanfic. (again, soz to Feye). Hmm. Oh, that's it. A note of importance: the Believer religion is a unification and combination of all Christian and Orthodox religions. When I write, being a Catholic, it will sound Catholic, but it is meant to be undenominational, and it is not meant to discriminate.  
  
  
  
Deirdre was surprised when she entered the abode of Miriam in New Jerusalem. From the outside, the entire city looked ugly, almost a wart on the landscape of planet. Great iron towers, looking like age-old battleships from ancient Earth. An immense crucifix had been placed in the centre of the city, on a blackened, charred hill. Calvary Memorial, it had been called, and underneath this scarred hill, Miriam lived, in her cavernous catacombs.  
  
Everything was designed to remind the Believers of the commitment of the Lord to his holy cause, and of the suffering of he and his followers. The catacombs were designed to relate to the times when Christianity was newly emerging, and the persecution of their religion by the Roman Empire had reached its peak. Deirdre remembered reading from the data links once, about a particular party of the Emperor Nero. Christians had been used a torches to light the festivities.  
  
Hopefully, she and Miriam could prevent the same happening under Zakharov.  
  
The ceilings of the caves under the hill were encrusted with blood-red crystals, dyed that colour by the simplistic Believer machines. Blood to inform anyone that entered of the sacrifice that the Christian faith had been built on. Deirdre felt uplifted now. For years Deirdre had been empty to her faith, convinced that it was only a human expression of hope of life after death, controlled by human laws and regulations.  
  
Now that her faith had experienced a powerful resurgence, she found it easier to accept her faults. Before, there had been no chance of redemption, no second chance at a greater life. Now though it was different. She had someone to turn to, no matter how grave the problem, someone that would listen whatever the circumstances. Christ and his love were unconditional.  
  
The Sister of the Believers turned to her. "You should have visited here before now, Deirdre. I sense that your soul needs healing that only the Lord can provide. You remind me so much of my own daughter, Deirdre."  
  
Deirdre closed her eyes, feeling a sympathetic wave of pity. "I don't know how you managed, Miriam. Leaving your children and husband on Earth. I could never have done it, and I have always admired you for it."  
  
Miriam nodded. "I thank you, but I will take no praise for my act. God called me, and I had to answer, but it was the most difficult thing in my life to do. I am a better person for it, but still, my soul feels shame when I remember her face."  
  
Deirdre sighed.  
  
"How do I remind you of her, Miriam?"  
  
Miriam shrugged.  
  
"I- I am not sure. It is difficult to explain, Deirdre, but she was always so exuberant, so full of happiness. She was clever, extremely so, and she had exactly the same fascination with plants as you did. She worked in Bioresearch for a time. You may remember her. I think she was with you in White Plains."  
  
Deirdre frowned, and then nodded. "Yes, I remember. She was a quiet girl who was contemplative and innocent. I saw her in the Church a few times. Yes. I had no idea she was your daughter, though."  
  
Miriam sighed.  
  
"Yes. By God, I miss her. Deirdre, we will not let this Planet die. That I swear. For too long I have stood by, silent for fear. I have heard you speak of the environment so many times, but it was too easy to shrug it off as prattle. That is my sin, Deirdre. I allowed my desire to spread the Word to corrupt me. In order to get my opinions listened to, I had to ignore your own."  
  
Deirdre nodded.  
  
"I know, Miriam. It doesn't matter now, anyway."  
  
Miriam glared.  
  
"It does matter. Everything matters, Deirdre. The fate of this new world hangs on a thread, and already I have endangered it with my weakness."  
  
Deirdre smiled.  
  
"No, Miriam. Only a person strong in the Holy Spirit could have remained true to God all these years. I envy you that."  
  
Miriam laughed.  
  
"A thought just struck me. All these years, we have watched each others' causes, both wishing we could support each other, but too fearful to do so. We should have been natural allies, not undeclared enemies."  
  
Deirdre sighed.  
  
"Yes well, Zakharov has much to answer for."  
  
Miriam nodded.  
  
"Aye. He does. Forgive me, Deirdre, but I have Mass to attend. You are welcome to join, if you wish. I will not pressure you."  
  
Deirdre smiled.  
  
"Yes. It has been far too long. When will Morgan and Lal be arriving?"  
  
Miriam glanced upwards, at a towering grandfather clock. The combination of Victorian, Roman, Tudor and modern-day architecture and art, made the catacombs fascinating to look at, almost like a step back in time. Still smiling, Deirdre entered the cathedral.  
  
  
  
After, they ascended to the docking bay, and there they waited for about ten minutes, in pensive silence, looking up into the stormy grey sky for the arrival of Morgan and Lal. The Nevian leader would arrive with them.  
  
Deirdre hoped that the leader would appreciate that it was not her fault she had suppressed the revolutions. She remembered, even now the argument she had had with Zakharov. Finally, he had sighed, and shown her information that clearly informed her of the terrible danger to her and her faction.  
  
It was always the same. Someone Zakharov wanted getting rid of, so he turned to Deirdre. She would not, so he made it look as if her people were in danger, and, hey presto, everything he wanted done, was done.  
  
"It was not your fault, Deirdre."  
  
She nodded once, taking strength from the resolute appearance of Miriam, clad in her simple and unadorned black robes. Finally, from the sky, appeared seven huge shuttles, three bearing the Peacekeeper banner, three the Morganite banner, and the other showing the outstretched Hand of Nevus.  
  
The gust of air made Deirdre wince, and she steeled herself to prevent a humiliating fall to the floor. All the shuttles landed, and from the middle shuttle, strode three figures. Lal wore his usual blue and white robe and turban, Morgan his finely brocaded suit. The leader of Nevus, however, wore pale brown leather, and slung across her back were high-tech weapons of the best quality.  
  
Miriam outstretched her arms, and shouted for all to hear. "Welcome, instruments of the power of Christ. The pacifist is among us, now shall the rest of Planet unite behind her. A war will be fought, but this war will be different. This war will be a Pacifist's War."  
  
She broke off from her exuberant declaration, and then spoke quietly. "Shall we adjourn to my quarters? I am sure we have much to discuss. Your generals can organise where your troops can station themselves. Come."  
  
  
  
"My own forces shall arrive within the week. My air force will be stationed here, and at Acceptance. All my craft will be made available for this war, as shall the majority of my ground troops. Naval units will not be at all useful here, so mine will remain based at New Island, patrolling against a University invasion into my territory."  
  
Miriam nodded. "Very good. How many troops and aircraft, and what models?"  
  
Deirdre smiled.  
  
"Advanced aircraft, probably the best on Planet. Stealth technology, Anti- aircraft, air-to-ground and air-to-air missiles. Pretty much any aircraft, for any situation. Although all are superior models, most of my aircraft rely on speed and secrecy in order to function at their best ability. My Hawks, however. Nothing can match them in the skies, except for sheer numbers. There should be a hundred-thousand lesser aircraft, and about ten- thousand Hawks. My green factories have been working at their maximum output levels."  
  
Morgan asked: "And your ground forces?"  
  
Deirdre continued. "Thirteen million with typical plasma armour and hand- held chaos guns. Seven hundred thousand tanks with heavy probability sheathes, and singularity guns. A thousand, heavy artillery. Their weaponry varies: from impact, to singularity. I have to say that my artillery is not exactly the forte of my faction."  
  
Miriam smiled, supporting, and then looked at Lal. "What about you?"  
  
Lal shrugged.  
  
"My faction is used to peace, and fortunately, have not experienced such horrors as the Gaian faction. We have kept our defence spending low, and so I can bring little to this war. I have perhaps three thousand aircraft, at an extremely inferior tech-level. My ground forces are almost entirely defensive, numbering two million men, one hundred thousand tanks, and three- hundred artillery pieces. However, I do have the Peace Guard, which consists of a million men, with the most advanced weaponry and armour available."  
  
Miriam sighed. "Well, hopefully, with time, your factories can be set at full output. Morgan?"  
  
Morgan stood.  
  
"My major contribution to this war will be one of energy, but I am not without my defences. All my tele-broadcasting satellites will be made available for communication, which means I can speak directly to the commander of every division in every one of our factions. About a hundred satellites were launched as soon as I heard of the attack on Memory of Earth, and so we have a very advanced orbital defence system, for every one of our bases. Other than that, I have about a thousand aircraft, a few hundred tanks, seventy artillery pieces, and a million men. However, within a month, I can treble these numbers, and I can keep on trebling until my armies number the largest on Planet."  
  
Miriam nodded.  
  
"It is not military might that we expect from you, Morgan. Defence, communication, and wealth are what we need."  
  
She glanced around the room.  
  
"My manner may seem offending to the rest of you, but the time is set against us, and we need to organise our defence well. You have all deferred to me, as the war will be fought on my own territory. This means I have the final say as to what course of action we take, unless all four of you vote against it."  
  
Waiting for them all to nod, she said finally:  
  
"Right. Imala, your turn."  
  
The leather-clad leader of Nevus stood, and looked towards Deirdre. "First of all, I would like to extend the forgiveness of my faction to the Gaian Leader, and I hope that we can learn to grow together in peace." She coughed, and then assumed the voice of an orator.  
  
"My warriors number only a hundred thousand, but they are expert assassins and spies. Give us a task, command us to infiltrate any base, and we will do it. The Hunter-Seeker Algorithm itself it no match for us. Our thoughts are trained from an early age to outwit machines and humans. Give us the word, and we shall tear into the University, sabotaging and wreaking havoc and destruction."  
  
She placed her hands on the surface of the table. "High Nevus, our first and only base can be found in the deeps of the Monsoon Jungle. For years, Morgan and Miriam have kept our existence a secret, making the world think we were still functioning within University bases and territory. That is far from the truth. Already, my small air corps raids University installations, and kamikaze probe teams are attempting to disrupt their supply lines."  
  
She sat down, as abruptly as she had stood. Her hair was black, and her skin was half-caste. A very fit, beautiful, and athletic woman, who certainly looked the part of a wanted terrorist. Deirdre now wondered how much of what she had heard was true. Sighing, she shrugged. It didn't really matter, anyway. In war, allies had to trust each other implicitly, and already, Deirdre found herself liking this rough, seemingly uncomplicated woman.  
  
Miriam stood, and fixed each one of them individually with her eyes.  
  
"My armies are vast. Fifty-million men and women march under the Cross. Twenty-five thousand aircraft can be launched into the sky. Unfortunately, we have little artillery, perhaps fifty pieces, and even fewer tanks. Our factories are hard-pressed as it is, and so that is my limit. Fifty-million soldiers sounds impressive, but almost all of them wear little more than plasma armour, and only a thousand of my warriors carry anything more powerful than Gatling lasers. Nevertheless, the power of the Lord shall infuse each one of us, and we shall shatter the forces of the infidels. This I swear, by the blood of the Lord himself."  
  
Deirdre sighed. There was now no way back. War was coming, and when it did, it would be bloodthirsty and violent. For once, Deirdre had few misgivings. Whatever came of this war, she knew it was justified, and she knew she was not being manipulated, or led. It felt good to be right. 


	23. Battle

Now it is (hopefully) getting exciting. Yey! Nearing conclusion! It will be good to be free from the clutches of Deirdre and Pacifist's War. Hmm. As usual, enjoy! I must make this point, however. There is so much I could right about the fighting, but I find it morbid and depressing. Assume that there is much more going on, and you will get a more accurate depiction. These chapters will be short, as there is only a certain amount of battle writing that you can actually done without feeling completely and utterly drained of all emotion.  
  
  
  
The war against Zakharov began at dawn two weeks after that meeting. Every single day of those two weeks had been consumed, as the immense numbers of troops had arrived at New Jerusalem, and had been stationed either in that city, or in the other cities, or at the bunkers and trenches in the mountains. Now matter how much larger the forces of Zakharov were, he would find it incredibly hard to penetrate far enough into the dusty mountains to threaten any of the Believing cities.  
  
As if working to some transcendent beings theatrical production, the University and Hive forces attacked at dawn. Watching the view from the HQ deep under Calvary Memorial, Deirdre saw the incredible amount of warriors that Zakharov and Yang possessed. The bases in that unoccupied sector of land had obviously boosted his population to the point that his armies were unimaginable.  
  
About a billion soldiers attacked, swarming into the mountains. The first Believing and Gaian emplacements were literally drowned with sheer numbers, but as the momentum of the attack was lost, the trenches and bunkers started to slow the advance.  
  
Deirdre watched the screen, and said calmly over the comm-link, speaking to Admiral Lisa Tarnus:  
  
"Commence air strikes. Full-strength, every aircraft. Fighters and bombers. Use the fighters to protect the bombers from attacking University aircraft. Hold the Hawks in reserve."  
  
Miriam nodded. "Good. I will hold my own aircraft in reserve with the Hawks, with the other factions' aircraft. You all agree, yes?"  
  
Simple nods. The leaders were too busy watching with awe, and a little trepidation at the sheer size of the University armies, not to mention those under the Hive banner.  
  
Waiting, Deirdre breathed out quickly when she was her aircraft attack. Fire leapt into being, greater and more consuming than anything she had seen before. It was hideous. The air shimmered crazily with the heat, and the smoke would have made it hard to see anything, had it not been for the infrared technology of the satellites.  
  
Her birds were in the sky, and they were dealing death.  
  
The ranks of University soldiers seemed to disappear under this display of airpower, and after ten minutes of incessant pounding, they started to break. Somebody must have relayed orders to the forces, however, because within half-a-minute, the University air force had been flung to meet the Gaian force.  
  
Both sides attacked with boundless ferocity, tearing at each other, gripped by a hatred of such passionate intensity that it could not be held in any longer. The Gaians fought, for hear was an enemy who had destroyed three of their cities, and who had forced their leader to humiliation.  
  
By God and Planet! There must be about five-hundred thousand aircraft up there, and only a hundred-thousand of them her own. Sighing, Deirdre whispered a prayer, to both Planet, and the Lord. They both held an equal place within her heart now.  
  
"Miriam, can I launch my Hawks. Air superiority is vital. If we lose it, we will have to kiss goodbye to any hope of winning right now."  
  
Miriam said: "Yes. Launch all aircraft. Codeword: Jesuit."  
  
Deirdre shouted into the comm-link: "Jesuit, I repeat, Jesuit. Launch all aircraft into the skies. Wipe anything out that has a different digital field. You fight for your lives, now. Do your duty."  
  
That last of the aircraft was launched into the sky, only about another fifty-thousand, but the Hawks, both craft and pilots the best ever seen, tore apart any opposition. Flying in twenty formations each shaped as an arrow, they pierced into the fight. The University aircraft were too many though, and Gaian after Gaian fell into the mountains, their lives ending in an explosion, and a plume of smoke.  
  
Now, when they fell, the pilots directed their craft into the University forces, determined to sell their lives at a high cost to the Bastard, as they called him. Zakharov, the Traitor, the Defiler. Even Satan, in some circles.  
  
Miriam stood, and murmured quietly:  
  
"Artillery, lock onto University digital fields, and fire. Morgan!"  
  
The leader of the Morganites turned to her. "Yes?"  
  
Miriam asked:  
  
"Can your satellites do anything to help? Destroy their tracking systems, or something. Just get your people to try. As Deirdre said, we must win this air battle, or everything is lost."  
  
Morgan nodded.  
  
"Very well. I will go to a different room. From there, I should be able to co-ordinate something, Miriam."  
  
She smiled. "Good."  
  
Imala said: "I may be able to help."  
  
Deirdre frowned. "How?"  
  
Imala tapped her fingers nervously on the table. "Well, my probe teams can get into University transmissions, and jam them. That would prevent them from co-ordinating their air attacks, and would at least add to confusion."  
  
Miriam said: "Make it so."  
  
  
  
The battle went on for hours, turning uglier every minute. The satellites in orbit launched massive blasts of electrical and high frequency energy at the University planes, able to differentiate between the communication signatures. Hundreds of the aircraft plummeted to the ground, their controls disabled. Most of them landed amongst their own troops, as well.  
  
When the Nevus probe teams captured University communication bunkers, exploding them with powerful explosives, it created more than just a little confusion. Even the ground forces were demoralised, and Miriam took advantage of that to order a full attack with ground troops, tanks and artillery.  
  
The massive University army was driven back, and slowly, the air force of the Gaians and their allies began to triumph, driving the University out of the skies. Finally, and order was intercepted from a hoarse Zakharov, screaming: "Retreat! Retreat!" By then, it was too late. The aircraft were trapped in the sky by the cunning flying of the Gaian Hawks, who would not allow them to disengage. They left it to the weaker craft to destroy every aircraft within sight.  
  
Bruised and battered, the University troops retreated to their bases, to suffer a night of continual bombardment and air strikes from the Gaians, who exploited their air superiority brilliantly.  
  
As Miriam remarked happily at the end of the day:  
  
"The heavens now truly belong to the Lord's Believers."  
  
  
  
The next day, the University came much more prepared. When the aircraft of Gaia were launched into attack mode, anti-air fire tore many of them down. Horrendous casualties were inflicted on both sides, but eventually the Gaians were forced to withdraw their aircraft.  
  
Taking advantage of the lull in 'Allied' air activity, Zakharov launched choppers into the sky, and began dropping thousands of paratroopers, who fought tooth and nail to capture the key positions. Gradually, the Believing defenders were driven back, bombarded almost incessantly into a final, desperate and full retreat. Artillery was left, forced to be dismantled, for fear of it falling into enemy hands.  
  
The second day of the war was a bleak day, for as night fell, the mountains belonged to the University, despite every ploy attempted by the faction leaders. Things looked bad indeed, and looked even worse when the bombardment of New Jerusalem began. 


	24. Last Resort

Hi. One of the last few chapters. It really is a relief to have nearly reached the end of this story, and I can sit back and relax for a while. Feye, I was saying you probably wouldn't want me to submit a Terry Brooks Fic because it looks like I am following you around. Hmm. Yes, well.  
  
Oh, and just asking a question of Joshua: Do you find it really difficult to read my fic? No, I don't mean difficult, just. Strange. Reading your fic, it is almost completely the opposite of mine. The antagonist and protagonist have been totally switched around. I find it quite fun. I still hate Zakharov thought. Well, I hate my Zakharov, and I hate your Deirdre. I love your Zakharov, and love mine. Does that make sense? Hmm. I am waffling. Sorry. Just enjoy this chapter.  
  
Oh, and please don't laugh at my last line. It isn't how it sounds, believe me.  
  
  
  
"Reverend Mothers, ready your units, and attack. All troops must attack. Not an inch of ground shall be surrendered. It is Christianity itself which we defend today, and the Lord shall be with us."  
  
The young women nodded, and readied their chaos guns. Although most Believing troopers had mere machine guns, the leaders of the squads had all been equipped with chaos technology. Anything to keep New Jerusalem from falling into the hands of the enemy.  
  
A crackling transmission came through, and onto the screen flashed a young priest, out in the streets of New Jerusalem. Gaian tanks whirred as they attacked, and the few pieces of artillery left were firing incessantly at the University forces as they advanced. Every piece of mechanized machinery was being utilized, even the cumbersome and weak Former units, thrown towards the enemy in an attempt to mow them down.  
  
Quite often the Believing units simply activated their self-destruct sequences, killing many of the attackers. Yet nothing seemed as if it were enough. Traps and bombs had been planted, but the sheer numbers of University-sworn troops just shrugged off the loss of life, as if it were nothing.  
  
"Sister Miriam, Sister Miriam! We have lost St Paul's District, and our men in St Brigit's seem ready to run. What shall we do? The enemy are everywhere!"  
  
Miriam looked at the floor, her face pale. Deirdre felt appalled. She had brought this on the woman. Had she not begged for an alliance, these terrible events would never have happened.  
  
No.  
  
It would have happened eventually. Whatever Zakharov wanted, he needed Miriam and her religion out of the way; the object that denied the explanation of physics and made anathema the art of equations. The very idea of a god was the closest a pure, mathematical scientist came to hearing heresy.  
  
"Lord have mercy. Father Nolan, withdraw all troops from St Brigit's. If you can, take some into the sewers, and follow them back to Calvary Memorial. Gather outside that. The majority of troops must rally around the barricades erected. Zakharov will be prevented entry into this bunker, is that understood?"  
  
Nolan nodded, and behind him, a streak of lucid orange flame made the screen shimmer with crackling whiteness. Miriam shouted, before the connection went:  
  
"Spread the word: whatever the circumstances, the University must be stopped. Lives no longer matter. Earthly sacrifices will make us beautiful in the eyes of god, and the greatest of rewards shall meet us at the Gates."  
  
With a screeching of electrical whizzing, the screen went dead.  
  
Deirdre sighed, and turned away from the screen. This was it. The finale. This time, the majority of the Council had supported her, and yet the monster was destroying it easily. The monster that she had once called a friend.  
  
Then she had an idea.  
  
Saying nothing, she left the control room. If this worked, the screams of frustration from University Base would span an entire continent. She smiled to herself.  
  
  
  
Shattered and bruised, entire divisions of defending troops assembled within Calvary Memorial, manning the long-prepared gun emplacements and turrets. Three million warriors had been crammed into the bunker, which extended about three hundred metres below the ground.  
  
The remaining twenty million or so troops had scattered throughout the city, holding individual cities, fighting for hours over a single house, but sometimes losing whole streets in the blink of an eyelid.  
  
The mindworms of the Gaians were torn apart easily by flame cannons given to every University unit. Zakharov was prepared for the mindworm army of Deirdre, for he had seen how easily they had torn apart the Spartans in the war.  
  
The city was burning. Whole districts burned, fire cutting immense swathes, like the scythe of Death himself. The screaming reached a deafening volume, and the agonized cries reached into the heavens.  
  
The Believers were dying.  
  
They were losing.  
  
They knew that they had failed Christ.  
  
They knew they had failed to stop the University.  
  
They knew that their defeat, humiliating and abject, would cause the end of hope for mankind.  
  
They knew all this, and more, and yet, with the courage and conviction of years of worship, they gave their lives eagerly. And as they died, they sang, solemnly and loud, their very souls present in the words.  
  
Hymns of Earth, the new hymns of Planet. Hymns beautiful to the ear, poured from their lips, as they killed.  
  
"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed is thy name."  
  
The sung the prayer of the Father, the prayer given to Jesus himself by God as he preached to the masses more that two and a half thousand years ago. They wept as they sang, but still they sang, sorrowful yet firm in their fervour.  
  
The hymns rose above the screams, and, as if calmed by a power greater than any human being, the screaming seemed to quieten. Even the guns seemed fainter. Now the hymns filled the air, many and varied.  
  
"Die!"  
  
From the schools, protected by thousands of Believing men, the children attacked. They had no weapons, merely their fists, but still they ran into the streets, picking up the weapons of dead men and women, and using them to attack the armies of Zakharov. Following their example, more and more Believers attacked, their unmatched ferocity driving the men of the University back. Back through the captured districts, back through the gates, past the trenches.  
  
Finally, the enemy broke, and scattered, as the air force of Gaia took to the air, fully refuelled. Fire erupted outside the city now, inflicting terrible casualties. Still the Believers sang their hymns, and, when the Gaians landed their aircraft, the University were far too shaken to attack again, and so stayed put, with nothing more happening that night, other than a few shots from artillery bombardment.  
  
  
  
Miriam had no idea where Deirdre had gone. She had left without a word, a strange expression on her face. What was she up to? Miriam no longer had any suspicions about the girl, not since she had decided to stay in New Jerusalem with Miriam. Morgan had left, under the command of Miriam, who had wanted someone to carry on the fight if she died. He had been given the locations to Gaian cities, and was to oversee the defences of Gaia if Deirdre died.  
  
Lal had left, as had Imala, even more reluctantly than Morgan. However, she had not left for her city, she had left to infiltrate the University camps, to eliminate leading commanders, as had many of her co-faction terrorists and assassins.  
  
Where was Deirdre?  
  
Miriam barked the code word, and stepped into a lift. Descending to the lowest levels, lit only by small, flickering lights, Miriam sighed. There she was. Deirdre sat on the floor, her eyes closed, meditating. At least that was what it looked like.  
  
Miriam breathed out. Deirdre was not meditating. She was practicing the occult again. Miriam, you are a fool, her voice whispered. You believed her confession; you believed that she wanted to become a Christian once again? How could you be so naive? Cursing, Miriam stood next to Deirdre, who had not noticed her yet.  
  
"Deirdre! What- what is- this?"  
  
With an almost audible snap, the eyes of the Gaian leader opened, and she paled.  
  
"Miriam, what are you doing down here?"  
  
"What are you doing, Deirdre?"  
  
The woman sighed. "I- I am trying to talk with Planet."  
  
Miriam shook her head. "What?"  
  
Deirdre sighed. Again. "You will think I am mad, but Planet talks with me. It tells me things, even tries to help me. It recognises that I want to protect it, that I want to keep it preserved for its beauty. Therefore, it talks to me. Only when it wants to, though. I am trying to locate it with my own mind. It is our last hope, Miriam. If I can ask for aid, Zakharov can perhaps be driven back."  
  
Miriam nodded. "Very well, Deirdre. I trust you are well practiced at this?"  
  
Deirdre looked away. "No. I have never tried before. Most empaths would find this impossible. My psychic abilities have increased quite considerably since my stay on Planet, and through my constant communications with it, but it still might be beyond me. Nevertheless, it is our last and only hope, Miriam. Who else is there to come to our aid, but Planet itself?"  
  
Miriam nodded once again. "Very well. How long will you need?"  
  
So, she was not using occult. Shuddering, Miriam realised that she had been falling into a pitfall Zakharov had made for her. The Scientist had probably planted the reports of paganism filtering from Gaia. Of course, they were not all Christians, and some worshipped Planet, but they were not evil. Just different.  
  
Deirdre looked away once more.  
  
"About two days, Miriam. I need you to hold this city, or at least this bunker, for two days."  
  
She knew as she asked that it was almost impossible. Miriam turned away, and ascended once more, using the lift. Whether or not it was possible, the Lord had given her an opportunity for victory, and she would not let it pass her by. It was time to take a more personal hand in the defence.  
  
It was time to unleash the Nuns. 


	25. The Nuns of New Jerusalem

Unleashing the Nuns. Anyone who was curious as to what this curious little phrase meant will now discover what the curious little phrase meant. Hmm. It appears I have a habit of stating the obvious. Right then, this is the last-but-one chapter. Wow. Who would have thought it? A Pacifist's War, finally finished.  
  
Oh. This chapter is where my story leaves the set game pattern, and goes into sort of fantasy stuff. Not lightning bolts and all but, well, you'll see. If you object, sorry, but it was the only way I could save Deirdre, so mmmeeeerrrrrrrrr! pulls a tongue  
  
Oh. This story is completely not planned, other than the fact that Zakharov betrays the Hipster. And that is a funny story in itself Well, not really funny, more of just-a-story. Hmm. I do tend to waffle on a bit, don't I? So, here we are. Let the Nuns be unleashed.  
  
  
  
Code: 776MIBeliev521//"Nun"executetransmission76  
  
From: Sister Miriam Godwinson  
  
To: Father Jiordan  
  
Message:  
  
It is time. I had hoped that this day would never come, but it has, despite all our prayers and hopes, and dreams. The fate of this planet hangs in the balance, but more than that. God himself needs us, however arrogant that may be. He needs us, requires us, as sorely as we need him, probably more so. Well, my old friend. Isn't that an interesting discussion for the Debating Conference at Redemption Base next year? Can God actually exist without our worship? These are blasphemous thought, but it appears that I must voice them finally, after centuries of doubt. May he have true and unblemished glory for all eternity for what I am about to do; and I pray that He has mercy upon my soul, when it comes to the Final Judgment. I apologise, Jiordan, but this is my order to you: unleash the Nuns.  
  
end of transmission  
  
  
  
The voice of Miriam could be heard throughout the city:  
  
"Entire city on 1st Alert. Activate the shields, and withdraw all men within it. Any who cannot be rescued are warned to kill themselves. The alternative will be horrific and painful. It pains me to say this, my Believers, but everything, even our place in Heaven must be sacrificed in order to preserve the Faith. I pray you all good luck, and good fortune. All communications will be ended until a certain point. Do not move out of the shields until I give the word. If anything tries to cross through the shields, you must kill them, whether they be friend or foe. Your survival depends on it. God bless."  
  
  
  
A high-pitched, droning and whining drowned out any other sound, and, watching in awe as a glowing blue orb surrounded the area of the city still held by Believers, the University stopped their advance.  
  
Since they had been driven out of the city the day before, University and Hive forces had renewed their assaults, and had captured huge swathes of the city. Now the defence rallied around Calvary Memorial, and around them, this strange blue orb had been erected.  
  
From the mountains around the city, more whining could be heard, and from the valleys and dells which had been virtually ignored by the attacking forces, immense steel silos rose into the air. About a hundred of them, each bearing a hundred missiles, painted black and white. A shiver of fear ran through the Believers. They had heard about these, but had not taken them seriously. The Nuns of New Jerusalem were far different than normal nuns. They were heralds of destruction and pestilence, the Four Horsmen of the Apocalypse embodied in thousands of metal missiles.  
  
At the limit of the Believing mountains, from hidden generators in patches of scrub, another shield was created. A large blue orb that surrounded the other easily. In effect, this created two safe zones. One in the small area around Calvary Memorial, to protect the Believers and their allies, and the larger one to protect the rest of Planet.  
  
Some of the fighters of the University realised this, and tried to run, but the larger shield prevented them from passing it, burning all into tiny particles of fine white ash. Panicked, still more tried to pass through the shield around Calvary Memorial, and found that this shield did not hinder them at all. However, the Believers on the other side, did.  
  
Then the communications around New Jerusalem went dead.  
  
Then the missiles screeched like the howling wind.  
  
Then without warning, the missiles were launched, in a flash of fire.  
  
Then they hit the ground, thousands of the black and white Nuns of New Jerusalem, striking the seventy mile stretch of land between the shields. The air flashed an unbelievable green, and the Believers around Calvary Memorial were forced to look away. The lucid green light remained for a long time, perhaps ten minutes. Then it dissappeared.  
  
Nothing remained between the two flashes of light. Everything had turned into a totally flat, black plain. The mountains had gone, as had everything else. There had been so screams, so sounds. And now there was no sign, other than the blackness that they had been anything there in the first place.  
  
The armies of the University had not even had a chance to break through the shields around Calvary Memorial, for although their death throes had lasted ten minutes, the excruciating pain had rooted them to the spot.  
  
Awed, and silent, the Believing forces around the Memorial let out a ragged cheer. The communications came back online, and all they could hear was the frantic praying of Miriam, lost in her grief.  
  
  
  
Deirdre felt the missiles scorch the earth. Well, Planet felt it really. It shrieked in agony, and gripped her mind, but no concious words could be discerned from the mass of syllables and sounds. Vainly, she tried to touch the sentient conciousness, to beg it to listen, but it could not, would not.  
  
It was a horrible force now, thrashing within her mind, and around it, succumbing to a pain unimaginable, some of which Deirdre herself felt. She felt the mountains flatten, she felt the mere hint of the pain which Planet was going through, and still it left her huddled on the floor. Deirdre tried to rally her mind, to gather her psychic defences, to reach out to this mind, a mind that had been so gentle, but which was increasing in ferocity every passing moment.  
  
"PLANET!" She screamed "LISTEN TO ME!"  
  
She jerked, and then sobbed as Planet roared at her. In the words she heard within her mind, she heard her own death, and saw the hopeless struggle she was fighting against life itself. Along with Planet, she bawled like a child.  
  
  
  
Zakharov ordered his fresh, rested reserves forward, and onwards they came, shattering through the Believing armies around Memorial. Within minutes they had seized the first level of the bunkers, despite the courage and audacity shown by the defenders. Every remaining Believer now stood within the chambers, fighting to the last, in an effort to stop the University. It was all in vain.  
  
An hour later, Zakharov had penetrated to level three, and now only two more levels remained to the Believers. As Miriam watched from the control centre of level four, her mind thought to the woman at the very bottom of the bunker, trying to contact Planet. God go with you, Deirdre. Grasping a gun, she waiting for the University forces to penetrate to the control room.  
  
  
  
Lost within the depths of her own mind, even her training as a psych availed her little. Whatever talents she had, paled into insignificance beside the sentient 'mind' of Planet. She wrestled with it nonetheless, for within her chaotic, frantic mind, she held a kernel of her mission. She was fighting to save Planet and its people, as well as God. If she was meant to win, she would do. This realisation gave her strength, and she threw her mind against Planet, shouting:  
  
"LISTEN!"  
  
  
  
"So, Miriam. A pleasant encounter. Those missiles, whatever they were, took me by surprise. I always knew you were the one to watch. When you get on your high-horse, and take on the 'I am blessed by God' approach, there is no rule you will not break. Is Deirdre not here, I so wished to meet her again."  
  
Miriam spat at the vile scientist, receiving only a hateful smile.  
  
"This Vendetta has gone on long enough, Miriam. You were quite good sport, and I have really enjoyed fighting you. Unfortunately, there is nothing I need you for anymore. I would have given you a quick, painless death, but you have awakened my passions."  
  
He grinned leeringly at her, and stroked the side of her face, before shrugging, and slapping her with enough force to send her flying across the room.  
  
Almost absently, he whispered. "Bionics. Modern technology can enhance the most withered of frames. I could probably rip apart walls with my current strength. Where is God, Miriam? You would think his power would show itself now, wouldn't you?"  
  
Miriam opened her mouth, and then shook her head.  
  
Zakharov walked over to her, and lifted her up by her neck with his right hand. With his left, he pulled out a needle from his pocket, and jabbed it quickly, unmercifully, into the jugular at her neck. Miriam groaned, and he dropped her to the floor.  
  
Zakharov grinned. "A cancer, Miriam, with accelerated growth rate. Instead of dying in about a year, you will die in about two hours. Those two hours will probably be the most anguished of your entire life." He turned to one of the soldiers that stood beside him.  
  
"Give her something that will keep her awake. The pain might make her faint, and we wouldn't want her to miss out on anything, would we?"  
  
Suddenly from below their feet, a loud scream could be heard. Miriam rasped, and her eyes widened. Zakharov recognised the look in her eyes for what it was. Despair. He stood over her once again, and laughed.  
  
"Deirdre is down there? Doing what? Talking to Planet?"  
  
Miriam tried to suppress it, but Zakharov saw the momentary flicker across her eyes, and he nodded once.  
  
"So it comes, as it always has, down to two contestants. Deirdre and I. Very well. The rules have been set, and I shall adhere to them. Goodbye, Miriam. Have fun in your Hell. I shall enjoy my eternal life on this Planet. Enjoy your last hours."  
  
  
  
Finally, she was getting somewhere.  
  
"LISTEN! LISTEN! LISTEN!"  
  
No, it wasn't working. The consciousness of Planet was slipping away, and, with horror, Deirdre realised her mind was slipping with it. Would that be so bad? Would it be so bad to lose herself in the neural network of the xenofungus, to become part of the planet? To experience a life that came not from organisms, but to exist as a mind amongst that of Planet. She could escape from these human affairs, and could-  
  
Another mind joined hers, and she recognised it as that of Tom. He was a training Empath. What was he doing? She felt the tug of Planet lessen as the strength of his mind joined with hers. It was not enough though, and she once again felt herself fleeing from her body. Then another mind joined hers. Khad. Leader of the Empath Guild. His mind- strength met hers, and the tug once again grew less. However, it still tugged, and eventually, even the power of three minds could not halt it.  
  
Another mind joined, followed by another, and another. More and more Empaths and barely trained psychs of Gaia melded their minds with hers, and the insistent pull of Planet grew less and less.  
  
"LISTEN."  
  
She murmured, and the force of hundreds of minds made her voice magnify unbelievably. Planet halted in its pulling, and merely stayed still.  
  
"LISTEN. PLANET. AID ME, AND YOUR PAIN WILL END. YOU HAVE BEEN IN MY MIND. YOU KNOW THIS IS TRUE. YOU CAN SEE INTO THE MINDS OF THE OTHER PEOPLE, AND YOU KNOW THAT THEY WILL LOOK AFTER THIS PLANET. WE CANNOT STOP YOUR PAIN IF WE DIE, OR IF WE JOIN WITH YOU. PLEASE, I JUST ASK YOUR HELP."  
  
Silence for a moment, and then Planet replied.  
  
earthdeirdre. tired are we. rest must we. understand earthpeople we don't. help you- we will. peace is good. you take away our pain. you must. join with us, earthdeirdre. join us, and you will win  
  
And then Deirdre knew what she must do. Smiling, she let the consciousness of Planet assume control of her mind and body, and they became one. Almost immediately, she felt awed at the oneness she felt with it, and then she became terrified. She had no control over her body. Planet had taken over her mind?  
  
Then that feeling went, and she had control over her own body, but Planet was still there. However, no sound came from it. What had happened? She shook her head, and then suddenly, the life and vitality of Planet rushed through her.  
  
you are servant of us, earthdeirdre. listen to you always, we will. fight the bad man, and win against our pain, earthdeirdre  
  
Deirdre opened her eyes, and blinked.  
  
Zakharov stood opposite her.  
  
  
  
The life of Planet was hers to command. The strength of it was unimaginable, and she found it difficult to breath. The presence of the other minds had gone, and she wondered what had happened.  
  
That didn't matter though. She felt, as if it were her own body, the scars that would take centuries to heal, the wounds of Planet that had caused it anguish for years. And then she felt the conviction lent to her by a desire for vengeance seize her. Vengeance both human and otherworldly gave her power, and she glared at the man who had caused so much hate.  
  
New Glasgow. Gaia's Landing. Memory of Earth. New Jerusalem. It was about time for a reckoning. No words were exchanged, merely glances, which showed that both had immense hatred for the other.  
  
Deirdre closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they shone bright green. Ethereal eyes, awful to behold, they fixed upon Zakharov intently. The scientist frowned, and whispered:  
  
"Deirdre."  
  
Deirdre did not reply, and instead, raised her hand in the air. From the sky above the bunker, a high-sounding buzzing could be heard, following by brutally short screams. From the ground beneath her feet, mindworms came, and they swarmed all over Zakharov, who sobbed in terror. Glaring harder, Deirdre called more of Planet to her, and watched as through the eyes of the scientist, mindworms sprang. From above, locusts, huge and fat, appeared. All these creatures covered Zakharov like a shifting cloud, and within seconds of screaming, the man was no more, only a bloody corpse, eaten and chewed on by the denizens of Planet, who had finally had their revenge.  
  
  
  
The battle ended quickly. Deirdre marched forward, an avatar of Planet. With gestures, she summoned forth locusts and mindworms, and sent them against the University. With simple coaxing, she allowed Planet to grow, grow faster than ever before. Trees and xenofungus, as well as thorns tangled around the armies of the Hive and the University, and, trapped, the attackers had no chance when the locusts began to devour them.  
  
The air seemed to be full of these golden locusts, droning with a deceivingly beautiful music. Yet despite the seeming uncontrollable wrath of Planet, not one of the worms or locusts ever attacked a Believer. And, in thanksgiving, the Believers prayed and sang, and, as they prayed and sang, Miriam did so too, staring into the sky as she watched Deirdre summon the power of Planet to her side. Praying under her breath, banishing the pain away to some distant corner of her mind, Miriam gave in to the sweet call of death. With the Our Father unfinished on her lips, the Sister of the Believers died.  
  
She died happy. 


	26. Epilogue

This isn't really a chapter, more of a 'what happened after' story. It should round off the story well. Sorry about the last chapter, anybody who thought it was un-AC like, but my sequel is going to be pretty much unrecognisable, but it is based on AC, and is set in AC, but will be more my own story. If anyone doesn't like the idea, then I am sorry, but well, I do, and at least it is original. Anyway, enjoy this one.  
  
Oh. Thanks for all the reviews from Feye and Josh. And thanks in advance for anyone else who may happen to read and review after I have posted this, and also thanks to the occasional person who reviewed my work for the heck of it. (I think one person did, though I forget the name). Thanks. Thanks. Thanks. Without Feye and Josh's support in particular, I could never have finished this, and now I have, I am so happy. Thank you so much! Right then, until P's War 2- goodbye.  
  
  
  
Deirdre returned to Gaia, swearing never again to become isolated from the world. By bonding herself to Planet, she had been given immense power. She could summon the mindworms, locusts and other creatures that inhabited Planet. Her psych potential had increased vastly, and the other leaders of the other factions were so in awe of her power that they created a new title for her: the Priestess of Chiron.  
  
The empaths who had helped her retain her mind had died, the strain too much. All three hundred of them had been buried with ceremony in Chiron City. The remaining members of the Empath Guild found that if they bound themselves to Planet in the same way as Deirdre, then they too could use the powers of Planet, although nobody ever matched the power of Deirdre, who had sacrificed all to gain her power.  
  
She was given control over the Council as well, and in that way, the mission of the Unity was finally realised. Planet was united under one leader, and although Lal and Morgan ruled their own factions individually, they had to adhere to provide for the freedom of any religion; to preserve democracy; to protect Planet and to work always for a betterment of technology and industry.  
  
Imala had, by an election of the Believers, been given command over their faction, and the religious fanatics who had rebelled against Zakharov merged with the Believers, to form a new faction, the Nevus Believers.  
  
All the bases of the University were left deserted, and Deirdre called Planet to allow the jungles to claim the bases once again, after they had removed all useable technology from it. The same was done to the Hive bases.  
  
Therefore, the four remaining faction leaders united: Brother Lal of the Peacekeepers; Priestess Deirdre of the Gaians; Tech-Sister Imala of the Nevus-Believers, and Morgan of the Morganites.  
  
Together the four upheld the beauty and peace of Planet, and once again, there was a new beginning, a new spring for the human race. Earth had not been heard from in a long while, and it was assumed that Planet, or Chiron, was the last outpost of the human race. Every person swore to remember the mistakes of Earth, never to repeat them again.  
  
And every night, Deirdre would walk through the groves of Gaia, now open to the rest of Planet, for the need for secrecy was over. She would walk, and remember Earth. She would walk, and remember all those who died. Lindly, Marco, Diehl, Miriam, Tom, Khad. The list was endless, but the cause they had fought for was simple. Peace.  
  
The pacifist and her friends had fought their war.  
  
They had fought.  
  
And they had won. 


End file.
